Looking for your Love
by Unbridled.mind
Summary: A month after returning to the Force, Joss is still suffering from a painful affliction; loneliness. One Friday night in April, John decides to cure it whether she likes it or not. Part 1 of the Late Nights and Early Mornings series. Final chapter: Chapter 59 is up! A full-blown prequel to Body Count.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: So coming off an incredible few months of almost daily writing on **Body Count** , I figured I couldn't stop so here's a short one about a lonely Detective on a Friday night._

 _Inspired by Adriana Evans - Looking for your love and written for **SWWoman, Killer Mike's Biggest Fan, Aqua95** and **QueenJessicaPearson** who've reminded me that it' not a choice to write, it's just who I am._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 17_ _th_ _April 2014, 7.45pm, 8_ _th_ _Precinct_

It had been a month since she walked through those hallowed doors to regain her gun and badge. Initially greeted by whispers, hushed voices and avoidant glances about the Death of HR and the War on Carter, it seemed the buzz was dying down like the story had in the newspapers. She thought she'd made it through the day without hearing about it until someone made the mistake of murmuring the name _Simmons_ in her presence. Without thinking she dropped the paper cup of black coffee at the machine, staining her tan leather boots. Sure, Fusco had brought him into custody, but the broken ribs and dislocated jaw were deemed excessive and according to the visiting Detective with the big mouth, word on the cell block was, it wasn't over. All she knew of his location was he was out of state in a maximum security prison, not that she asked. She slept much better at night knowing that, the last thing she needed to hear was rumours about another HR uprising.

"You okay, Carter?" Fusco asked, glaring at Detective Jordan who he recognised from the days when he was on the take.

"I'm fine." She replied, wiping off her boots at her desk. "Maybe it's a sign I should give up coffee."

"No, it's a sign you should get outta here while you still can." He suggested, knowing if she didn't leave before him she'd probably stay all night. He didn't bother asking her if she had any plans for the night; he knew she was flying solo as usual.

She tossed the damp napkins in the waste bin and looked over her latest report; when the same sentence appeared three times and she knew it was time to throw in the towel. "I guess you're right." She threw her gym bag over her shoulder and turned in for the night.

She fished around in her pocket for her car keys but it was no use, the car door was already slightly wedged open. Looking around the well-lit street, she couldn't see anyone suspicious. There was no visible damage under the hood either. She sat in the front seat but didn't turn on the ignition; she listened silently for the ticking sound of a bomb when all she heard was the light ticking of a watch. "John," She called. "When I said I always saw you in the back seat of my car, this isn't what I meant."

She caught his signature smirk and stare in the rear-view mirror. "What? No handcuffs?"

She rolled her eyes and didn't respond. "I _was_ heading home. You need a ride?"

"No. I came to help _you_ out, Carter."

She turned her head to face him. "And what makes you think I need help?"

"They tell me you haven't been out or had any fun since you got back on the streets."

She raised an eyebrow. "Who told you? Finch? Fusco? Shaw?"

He smiled, he knew she'd react this way. "I know what it's like trying to get back into civilian life. I came to help you out. It's still Friday night, we could do something."

"You came to ask me out?" She asked, hopefully.

"I came to keep you company." He replied.

For some reason, she felt let down by his response. "Thanks, John, but I'm okay. And Paul's dropping Taylor off on Saturday so I'll be fine."

He reached for the car handle. "I'll leave you alone if you want. But something tells me that you don't."

"Carter." She said, simply. "You still call me Carter, but you want to spend the night with me?"

There went that smirk again, whenever it appeared she felt like she was in on the joke with him, a willing accomplice in a juvenile prank. "I never said anything about spending the night but if that's what you want, I'll oblige."

"Get out of my car, John." She said, looking away and turning the ignition.

For once he did as she asked, but he wasn't giving up that easily.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I always wondered what it was like to write a short story..._

 _As always, enjoy x_

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 _Friday 17th April 2014, 8.25pm, Joss' apartment_

As well as avoiding discussing the kiss they shared when they stood on the knife edge of death the previous November, John knew they hadn't addressed the murmurings from prison that rippled through the streets via phone calls and cleverly-worded letters. If Simmons, Quinn's heir apparent, slipped the net and was heading an HR rebirth then Joss had reason to do more than worry and spill a cup of coffee. In addition to shooting her in the chest, he had taken a stance to silence throughout all legal proceedings, eliciting the street credibility of John Gotti at his prime.

She parked her car at the corner of her street, the place she was determined to move back into even when she knew it had been ransacked and violently searched by HR. The gross violation of privacy made her will to return even stronger, that and, the painful idea of telling Taylor he couldn't come home after turning his life upside down for the best part of a year. She had taken to carrying more pepper spray and a taser in addition to two service weapons, not that she used them; she was compensating for her fears. Satisfied that she recognised the vehicles on her street, she walked up the steps of her apartment and turned the key.

Sneakers lined up by the wall. Mail on the floor. Bills, more bills and a letter from a lawyer about her inheritance from a long-lost relative. Tearing it up on sight, she heard his voice and jumped out of her skin. "I wouldn't do that if I were you; you could be rich."

She raised an eyebrow. "You read my mail?"

"Only the suspicious looking ones." He admitted, sitting on the stairs.

"You know that's a crime. Of course you know that's a crime." She took off her jacket and hung it up. "What's up, John?"

"I'm concerned about a friend."

"Good night." She replied, not in the mood for any more talks about their friendship. "Friends don't kiss friends, then wait five months to talk about it."

"So you _want_ to talk about it?" He asked, following her into the living room. "Because if it's not about The Machine you don't want to talk about anything."

She kicked herself for letting that one slip. So frustrating it was to teeter on the edge of saying something real, making an admission to someone who was still so wrapped up in someone else. "I don't know. All I know is it's never been the same between us and I don't like what it's done."

He sat beside her on the sofa. "So it was a mistake."

"It was...something we weren't prepared for." She let her hair out of its ponytail, another hairstyle her mother hated. "So it's better this way, with enough distance between us we

can forget about it and eventually things will go back to normal."

"I don't want to forget." He admitted, sweeping her hair out of her face. "I don't want things to go back to normal. I want you to remember."

She looked away, feeling her resolve weakening; with him gone she could mull over it all night over a few glasses of wine then Taylor would be back in the morning to take her mind off it. "I think you should leave now."

He took off his jacket, showing he had no intention of doing so. "What don't you want me to see?"

She shook her head. "Stop it."

He noticed her hands were shaking. "Okay, I didn't mean to upset you. But I can't leave you like this." She balled her hands into fists in an attempt to stop the shaking. "Will you look at me?" She turned her head to face him. "What's got you scared of your own shadow?"

She exhaled. "I'm not scared...for me. I'm scared for my son. After what happened to Lee, I can't have anything happen to my son."

"Nothing's gonna happen to Taylor. I only make my promises once. And I mean every one, Joss."

"Okay, but you don't have to stay on account of me."

He stared her down. "I want to stay, if you'll let me."

"And if I don't?" She asked out of curiosity.

"Then I'll stay anyway." He smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: So after watching Unsung: Xscape it's safe to say John's the embodiment of "kick off your shoes and relax your feet"._

 _As always, enjoy x_

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 _Friday 17th April 2014, 9.03pm, Joss' apartment_

Joss stared the pair of size 11 shoes on the living room floor; " _Forget making himself comfortable,_ " She thought, " _If he was any more laid back he'd be horizontal._ "

John was oblivious to her thoughts; he had already ordered in Thai take-out and was going through her DVD collection. She had changed into pale jeggings and a black one-shoulder sweater from when they were last in fashion, not that she could remember the last time she'd gone shopping for anything but food. The hermit life served her well; her foldable treadmill met her need for exercise and hours of diversion were just a fingertip away. It just seemed easier to retreat from a world where for a moment she was famous and for months she was infamous. Joss wasn't made to be a celebrity especially when ' _whistleblower_ ' was a dirty word to most; just a dressed up pseudonym for 'snitch'.

Then there were the people who didn't care because they weren't invested, like Tony the delivery guy from _Thai-Phoid_. Somewhere in between were her friends; the people she had kept at an healthy distance because she still didn't know who to trust and she didn't want anyone else to get hurt because of her. The last great casualty was murdered just over a year ago and outside the phone call to his family, no-one at the Precinct even spoke his name. Cal Beecher was dead and, for the most part, forgotten. The quest for retribution had done nothing to absolve her of her guilt, and as the anniversary of his death came and went without much fanfare or recognition, she wondered what it was all for.

He held up two movies; Die Hard and The Nutty Professor. "Action or Comedy?"

"Comedy." She replied with a half-smile that quickly faded. Although she appreciated his efforts but it would take a lot more to lift her spirits. Next, he raided her cabinet for something to drink. "Is this all you got?" He asked, referring to the half empty bottle of cognac and the bottle of red wine.

"There's coke in the fridge, have a party." She replied, stretching on the sofa.

He could hear the cricks in her back as he put two short glasses of cognac, straight no chaser, on the coffee table. "You're uptight." He commented, well aware of his double entendre. She shook her head and brought her legs up to her chest to make space for him to sit. "They say to cope in dwell time you need human contact; to remind you you're human."

"So I need "contact"?" She asked, cynically. "That'll solve all my problems?"

He sighed. "You need to be close to someone. Staying cooped up all alone is bad for you."

She laughed to herself. "Says the lone wolf himself..."

"I'm alone when I have to be, you're alone because you choose to be, Joss."

She sighed. The doorbell rang. "Saved by the bell. It's probably our food and I'm dying for some Shrimp Pad Thai."

" _I'll_ get it." He told her. "That way I can check around corners for the boogeyman."

"That's not funny." She replied, sitting up.

The doorbell rang again. "I guess not. Look, I was just trying to make you relax." He explained.

"I know." She forced a half-smile. "Tip Tony, I always do."

John was at the door longer than she expected and by the time she returned with the plates; there was a familiar laugh in the living room but no food. "Taylor?" She shuffled past John and stood between them to explain. "John was just...visiting."

He looked at her with scepticism and disbelief. "Okay...I came to get these." A pair of neon green soccer cleats hung over his right shoulder.

"Good luck with your game tomorrow, Tay." She held the plates to her chest. "I'll be there."

"Are you sure?" He asked, knowing she'd been avoiding wide open spaces since she got home.

"Of course. I'm not working tomorrow; I'll even drive you."

He took it as a sign she was going back to normal, that or John's presence had something to do with it. "Cool. Dad's in the car, he wanted to talk to you about some..." He looked John up and down and spotted his jacket draped over a chair and the shoes on the floor.

"What about?" She asked, noticing his eyes were fixed on John's socks.

"My birthday party, but it can wait since you're..." He didn't want to say it, John's googly eyes said enough. Taylor didn't mind John being around his mom, especially since he'd seen his martial combat skills up close. Besides he was there when "it" happened, so they were bonded by the horror of it all. "I better go. We're watching Chainsaw Cheerleader 2 tonight."

"Have fun, honey." She said, knowing they'd revisit this impromptu meeting the following day. "Tell Dad I'll call him tomorrow."

"Okay, 'night John."

"See you around." By now, Taylor knew him to pop-up every now and then, just to check in on him.

She handed John the plates and followed Taylor to the door, catching Tony and their takeout just in time. Paul drove off in a new sports car, an act that wasn't lost on her.

"Where were we?" John asked, half-eating, half-swallowing his noodles from the box.

"You said something about the boogeyman." She reminded him.

"Before that."

"Apparently I need contact." She said, fishing for shrimp on her plate.

He finished the first box; an impressive feat since she barely ate three mouthfuls. "You do."

"I know you mean well, John, but kissing me again won't prove your point. It'll just confuse things further."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed."1 year, 12 days."

He hadn't done anything when that day came and went, the world simply kept turning; there was another number to pursue, another quip from Finch, another insult from Shaw, another gun to load and empty. Cal's death hadn't crossed any of their minds, nor its anniversary, except hers. "I'm sorry, Joss."

"I know I have to let it go, it's just hard you know?" He nodded. "Of course you know; you still wear her like a shield."

Her astute observation wasn't well-received.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I meant to post this last night. The reason why the chapters are short is because this is the most challenging fic I've written thus far.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 17th April 2014, 9.38pm, Joss' apartment_

" _You still wear her like a shield."_

Her words stung because Jessica was a safe place to go in those days; she was the only good thing in his life. _If things had been different_...John cut off his drifting thoughts. It was what it was and having dreams of what could have been was torture for him. Like a shield; a protective shield that he wore as armour in battle. A shield, something to hide behind other than a false identity.

"John." She called his name because he had gone quiet. "I meant no-one can get to you, not even me."

"I let you in."

"Okay." She replied, sarcastically. "You know that's why you're here; to stop me from doing what you've done for years."

"How I felt about Jessica has nothing to do with you or why I'm here."

"It does. It's the _reason_ why you're here; so we can be lonely together."

Her cynicism took him off-guard. "You need to get around more people, Joss. Preferably male people...with patience."

She ran out of shrimp to eat. "I'm around men all day. None of them interest me."

He threw back some cognac before daring to ask the question that had been on his mind for a long time. "Were you in love with him?"

She shook her head. "Are you still in love with her?"

He swallowed hard. "I don't talk about Jessica, not often. Not at all if I can help it."

"Okay, can you tell me why you kissed me?" She noticed the food was going cold.

"What's to tell?"

"I had a lot of time to think about it. I guess you kissed me 'cause you thought you would die that night and it was on your bucket list." He laughed at her absurd assertion, his laugh made her smile. "And, if you died, we'd never ever talk about it. And we haven't, 'til tonight anyway."

"I kissed you because I wanted to. And you never stopped me, why?"

"Because it was just us...on the edge."

"Like now." He drew closer to her and planted a warm kiss on her lips that didn't surprise her; he was driven by his impulses and this act just proved it again. They locked eyes, he wished he knew what she was thinking. She pulled away for a moment, then moved away, and looked through her bookcase until she found a well-worn copy of _The Fire Next Time_. Inside, she kept a white envelope with 'For John' written on the front. She handed it to him.

Two things struck John about the photograph inside, one, how well it had been kept, and two, that it was the only photo of him smiling that he could recall taking. Jessica. She smiled back at him. Her beauty arrested him like it used to, he remembered brushing her bangs out of her face. He wasn't looking at it; he was sent into a state of meditation. Memories of the man she knew. She didn't know who he was or what he'd become. She never knew he killed in the name of his country, not as a soldier on a noble quest, but as an assassin who's nobility was up for question. They never talked about 'the enemy' he was constantly in pursuit of, or his guilt, or his inner conflict. The John she knew was a good man and in an alternate universe he was that man. He slid the photo back in its envelope and noticed Joss' stare as the room came back into focus.

Joss watched him fade away and come back again, realising that perhaps her home wasn't the best place to keep that part of his past. The loss of Cal was like a skin she was shedding; a drawn-out process that was almost through. John wore Jessica under his skin, so Joss didn't have to dig deep to find traces of her.

"How did you...where did you find this?" He asked, turning it over in his hands.

"Her mother gave it to me." She felt an urge to touch him but she couldn't bring herself to do it. "She told me that she loved you."

"How long have you known?" He couldn't believe she held the connection to the only part of his past he wanted to hang onto.

"A long time. I've been patient, John." She confessed, seeing that it was simultaneously helping and hurting him. "I've waited two years for you to tell me something. I waited because I wanted you to come to me but you're not ready for that, and I'm not ready for this either."

Any other day he would have taken her words at face value, but this wasn't any other day. Because if given the chance to move at her desired pace, they would never get anywhere. He considered his next move as she warmed the food in the kitchen. She was singing a tune he'd never heard before as the microwave hummed away, but she stopped as soon as she got sight of him with his shirt off. His chest was formed of a tapestry of skin, scars and tattoos that covered an impressive set of toned abs. There went her resolve again, dissipating, as her eyes grazed over his muscles. She pulled his face closer by the chin and reached for his bottom lip with her teeth. The nutty smell was still on his breath.

 _Ping._ The microwave went off signalling the dawn of a new era.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: I always wondered what it would take for John and Joss to start a relationship when they weren't on the edge of death, ultimately this is where I'm writing from.  
_

 _This is for **YG, ReadtoRelax,**_ _ **impvme and Kayla2**.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 17th April 2014, 10.03pm, Joss' apartment_

Kissing him was more satisfying this time around. Their first kiss was akin to finding water in a drought; a life-saving gesture in dire circumstances. A product of thirst. A surprise. This time she initiated it and it was on even terms, or so she thought. It was an exploration for her, to know what it felt like to kiss him of her own volition, and an interesting study for him to see what she would do if given the chance.

At first she just touched him with her fingertips, drawing a line between his pecs down to his navel. They had caught glimpses of each other's skin in the morgue but to see him fully topless was a wonder; he had the body of a warrior, not a soldier. There were a few bruises on him that were new; his instinct was to brush them off as what was expected in his line of work. But she didn't see them that way; she saw them as something to fix, something to heal. With the way she was looking at him, studying him inch by inch, mapping his skin and committing the image to memory, he was having the desired effect. Or so he thought.

She sighed. "I'm still not ready, John. Although I've enjoyed the view..." She cocked her head to the side for another eyeful. "A lot."

He smirked. "And if I take off my pants?"

"That would be a violation." She realised she sounded like the arresting officer in a porno and cleared her throat and clarified. "Of our friendship...and whatever this is." She put her idle hands to use and took the food out, almost scalding her hands from the steam. The sting was a needed distraction; it gave her something else to fix her eyes on. She held her fingers under running water until there was numbness instead of pain.

He stood behind her, invading her personal space. "What did I do wrong?" He asked, thinking if she didn't have to face him he might get a better answer.

She shook off the water. "Nothing." He slipped a hand under her sweater resting on where her biggest scar was. "You remembered?"

"Your battle scar? Sure. How does it feel?"

"I can't feel anything. I mean it itches sometimes but...nothing."

"I wasn't talking about the scar."

She smiled because he couldn't see. He rubbed his chin against her cheek. "How does it feel, Joss?"

"It feels like...I'm still hungry."

He sighed. "Okay, let's eat. Then we can talk about how long you think we can stay like this."

 _Friday 17th April 2014, 10.21pm, Joss' apartment_

Joss was hungrier than she thought and he watched her polished off the rest of the Pad Thai, four spring rolls, half a beef massamun curry and a handful of prawn crackers. On a night like this, he could watch her do anything because they were finally alone with no interruptions. _The Nutty Professor_ was playing on the TV in the living room but they weren't watching. "You still hungry?" He asked with a smile as she cracked open a can of coconut water.

She chuckled. "Not anymore. Why are you here, tonight?"

He turned to face her. "Because I _thought_ you'd be good company."

"I thought Zoe was your go-to for _good company_." She gave him the Kermit face as she gulped down half the can.

"You wanna talk about Zoe? Let's talk about her." Joss realised she'd bitten off more than she could chew. "We had sex, but you already know that. Sometimes we played cards, had a few drinks, I can't remember if we talked much. And then the taxi came."

She shifted in her seat. "I shouldn't have mentioned her."

"You should. We can talk about whatever you want, Joss. Except..."

He didn't have to say her name again, she already knew Jessica was off-limits. "I got it. I'm glad you're here, John. If you weren't," She exhaled and rubbed the back of her neck where she'd been storing tension for a while. "I'd probably be up all night."

"If we move, I can do that for you." He offered, thinking the sofa wasn't big enough.

"You mean move to the bedroom, John?" She asked, as he moved her hand away.

"Yes."

"But-"

"You're not ready. I heard you, but for what? For sex? Understood, it's the lady's choice. You were more than ready to kiss me tonight, and you liked it, am I right?"

She rolled her eyes at him asking her what he already knew. She begrudgingly agreed. "Yes, I liked it."

He smirked with self-satisfaction. "I want to touch you, even if you _can't feel it_. And I think you want that too. Because as much as you try to keep a distance between us, you like being close to me. As much as I like being close to you. And I'm almost sure, neither of us wants to be alone tonight."

She couldn't believe she was actually considering his proposition. Several thoughts were running through her mind; she hadn't shaved in weeks, Taylor was coming home in the morning, that purple thing was in her top drawer, her underwear was still hanging on the radiator, Cal's newspaper cut-out was still on the wall in her closet, Taylor was coming home in the morning, she hadn't had a man in her bed for 18 months, she had stretch marks on her hips, Taylor was coming home in the morning, John looked like dessert with his shirt off and he did say he wanted to touch her so she could feel it or where she could feel it or whatever, he wanted to touch her and she would like it very much, Taylor was coming home in the-.

"Fine. You can stay."

He smiled. "Where?"

"Uh-" She exhaled. "In my room. But John,"

"No sex, got it." He grinned, she could feel him plotting.

" Taylor's coming home in the morning." She warned, grabbing his shirt on instinct.

"So you're gonna use me and throw me out before dawn?" He joked.

"I'm not gonna use you." She said, seriously. "Promise you won't use me either."

He gave her a mock salute. "I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Closer and closer...  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 17th April 2014, 10.57pm, Joss' apartment_

John noticed all of the things in her room she didn't want him to see, except for the purple thing because it was tucked away in the drawer in her night-stand. Not that he cared about the neat row of G-strings and Brazilian panties hanging on her radiator, or the black and grey clothes in her open closet. It was the occasional flashes of royal blue that he didn't understand.

"Is blue your favourite colour?" He asked, scanning the room some more.

She wondered what he thought of it. "No, it's orange."

He took stock of the plain cream walls, three framed Van Gogh prints and the blue and brown paisley bedding. He felt her bedroom was neat and impersonal. Anyone at all could've been there, there was nothing that made it hers except the novel on her night-stand. "Is Dickey really his last name or is it a pun?"

She caught his pun and rolled her eyes. "It's his real last name."

He read the title. " _Friends and Lovers_."

"Yeah, gimme that."

He held it out of her reach. "What's in here, Joss? 50 shades of tension?"

She sighed, even though he was exasperating at least she was having fun. "It's not like that, you know what? Keep it."

She took off her sweater and he dropped the book. Finally he could see her battle scar again in its everyday glory. Above the left cup of her black bra was a bullet wound scar from Simmons. He had a better understanding of her sleepless nights and kicked himself for being in her car; she didn't have to look far for a reason to fear the man who shot her when she wore a permanent reminder. She caught him staring. "It's not so bad John, Taylor said it boosts my street cred."

His eyes wandered over the little cleavage her bra allowed. "You don't need that," He said, referring to the tank top she pulled out of the chest of drawers.

She ignored him and found the matching shorts. "We agreed on-"

"No sex, not no _nothing._ "

She threw her PJs on the end of her bed and conceded. "If I keep my top off what's in it for me?"

"The massage I promised you." He looked her up and down. "You could lose the jeans too."

"They're jeggings." The look on his face showed he didn't care what she called them, he just wanted them off. It dawned on her there was no sexy way to take off jeggings.

He rubbed her arm. "I'll go first."

"No!" She exclaimed. "Before you end up naked in my bed, taking a selfie." She exhaled, sat on the corner of the bed and took off her jeggings. He was impressed by the speed with which she put on her shorts; she was Army-quick but not quick enough.

He smiled with understanding. "You weren't expecting me. There's always next time."

She wasn't amused and she didn't feel sexy; she felt like the woman with no landscaping and mismatched underwear. He felt her mood shift and tried to bring her back into the moment. "Lie down."

She found a comfortable spot in the middle of the bed, lay on her stomach and dropped her bra on the floor.

"That's _some_ tattoo, Joss."

Her instinct was to cover the shooting star on the back of her right thigh but at this point it was futile; he'd already seen her college mistake and was amused by it. "It's stupid, I know. It seemed like a good idea at the time, now it looks like a first grader drew it."

"There's a story there, I can feel it." He rubbed his hands together.

"It's a short story. I was drunk; Paul got _Milton_ and I got _that_." He put his hands on the back of her neck and pulled his fingers in opposite directions, applying just enough pressure. "Mmm," She moaned approvingly, "Where'd you learn that?"

"Around the way." He made deep circles with his thumbs. "You got knots."

"I know. Mmmmmm." She closed her eyes. "One of 'em's called _John_."

He tried to work out some of her knots. "Do _I_ stress you out?"

"With the stunts you pull, you have to ask?" She laughed to herself. "If you feel a little group back there, that's Taylor; one for each of his teenage years."

"He's a good kid." He pushed her arms up over her head and moved down to her shoulders; she was starting to relax, to speak off the cuff, it wasn't such a fight to crack her shell or so it seemed.

"He is most of the time." She noticed his hands were good for more than shooting a gun; when he unballed his fists he was capable of a firm but loving touch. "He's turning seventeen, you know; that's worth at least five knots. That feels _so_ good." She exhaled and he felt her back sink into the bed. "You surprise me."

He was thrown off by her comment, so much so he couldn't focus on her massage anymore. Of all the things a woman had said to him, surprise wasn't the first word that came to mind. He had heard, "you thrill me" and "you satisfy me" more times than he could remember. Shame, because he never returned. He'd even heard "you scare me," as he hopped out of bed with urgency because Finch was calling, leaving a faceless, nameless woman on her own in the middle of the night. John was admittedly full of surprises; explosive surprises that led to ballistics. But that's not what she meant and he knew it. Instinctively she moved to make space for him and rested her head on the pillows. All he could do was lie beside her and resign.

She stroked his face feeling the slight grit of his recent shave. "How did you know just what I needed?"

He said the first thing that came to mind. "Because I need it too."

She smiled. "Do you think we can still be friends? You know, if we..."

"Yeah, I think we can." He told her, but he wasn't sure and suddenly the idea of being in bed with her was losing its appeal. When the prospect of sex with a woman with a 20 foot wall was on the table,he would've done anything to work his way in now she was doing the enchanting thing she did, when she looked into someone's eyes and saw into their soul, like she was doing to him right now, it wasn't that easy. Ironically, she was warming to the idea. More than warming. She unbuckled his belt. "You can take them off."


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: And the tables turn and turn again...  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 17th April 2014, 11.21pm, Joss' apartment_

When John took off his pants, she got more than she bargained for. First, was the eyeful of muscle; he was toned to the point where she could make out each muscle as if he was a live model in an anatomy class. She cocked her head to the side again and her eyes wandered and roamed, wondering if he got those hamstrings from weighted squats or leaping tall buildings in a single bound. Secondly, he pulled a box of condoms out of his pocket and draped his pants over her wicker chair. She strained her neck taking in the sight of him in a pair of boxer briefs thinking of what the night could bring.

"Impressive." She thought aloud.

He smiled at her appraisal and uncharacteristically blushed. "I'm glad you approve. You hiding any more tattoos under there?" He asked, in reference to her shorts.

She looked back at her checked pajama shorts and it seemed futile to wear them any longer, because she had a feeling he wouldn't pay much attention to whichever body parts she picked apart. He noticed she was still lying on her stomach and wondered where her need to cover up came from. He would've asked but he was no stranger to hiding himself and he ability to see through him often cut like a razor. On a base level, he wanted to see her naked and if not naked then at least topless but she couldn't bring herself to do it of her own free will and that baffled him.

"You know, people who sleep together have to _see_ each other." He said casually, looking for a place to put the condoms. Her night-stand on the left had three drawers, he reached for the top.

"Don't-" She was too late. He'd already seen the ribbed purple thing. She buried her face in the pillow.

He cleared his throat and she waited for the punchline. "I'm not surprised," He said, lying next to her again. "You're the type."

She turned her head his way. "What type?"

"The D.I.Y. Type." He joked. She closed her eyes and felt the heat of mortification flooding her face. "It's proof."

"Of what?" She asked, though she wished she hadn't.

He chose his words carefully. "The fact you need me tonight."

"That's presumptuous...and arrogant."

"It's true." He kissed her forehead. "You have to learn just 'cause you can do things by yourself, doesn't mean you have to."

She sighed. "This isn't how I thought it would be for us."

"So you've thought about it?"

"I have." She admitted. "I imagined inviting you in, matching, and not smelling like outside."

He noticed she was eyeing the door and realised why. "So you want to take a shower, right now?"

She sighed with relief. "Yes."

"With me?"

"Nice try, John." She replied as she hopped out of bed and caught just a glimpse before she yanked her blue robe from the closet.

 _Friday 17th April 2014, 11.47pm, Joss' apartment_

For someone who had perfected the art of the two-minute combat shower he couldn't fathom what was taking her so long or how he could hear buzzing, brushing and gurgling sounds as well running water from outside. Joss, on the other hand, relished in the opportunity to make herself presentable. She wasn't a stickler for lingerie or lots of makeup but she liked to feel confident enough for a man to go down and not be repulsed by what he saw. She finger combed her hair, sprayed under her arms and did one last breath check before she went back to her room in her robe. He was more than comfortable in her bed, as thought it was already theirs.

"One day you can tell me what the blue stands for."

"Maybe I will." She replied, straddling him.

He untied her belt as though it was the ribbon on a gift. She wore nothing underneath, that much became clear when he pulled it from her shoulders down to her waist. They shared more than a few warm, wet kisses before he moved from her neck to her collarbone, leaving his impressions on her skin. She sat up on her knees and her chest rubbed against his. The faint hair tickled.

"Will we still be friends?" She asked, as his hands slid down her body.

He looked down at her and nodded in approval of all he could see. It took a while to register that she asked him a question and by then her tongue was in his mouth sparring with his. "I'm not sure." He replied as he balled up the gown and threw it off the bed.

She paused for a moment, having heard him. Her instinct told her to let it go, that the risk was too high and even he knew it. But her body said it was a risk worth taking and betrayed her need as she clenched tight and could already feel a pool forming already at his touch. "Then it's on you, John." She said, placing the next move in his hands. "I'm not taking the chance if you won't take it with me."

He knew she was talking about more than sex. He'd called Joss his friend, she was the only woman he could remember calling that title and meaning it. But it was a defence as much as an honour; a safe and sensible place to keep her in, to keep her as a constant while he worked through his feelings for her. She called time on it; there was no more room for ambiguity, a choice had to be made. Ultimately, by taking his place in her bed he also had to take it in her life; he couldn't just sneak in one night and steal away in the morning, he had to accept the risk and the personal cost if it didn't work. She stroked his face again and asked, "So, are we in this together?"


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Credit to Usher, Ludacris and Lil Jon for a simple line "Tell me again, that we'll be lovers and friends."  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 17th April 2014, 11.53pm, Joss' apartment_

" _So, are we in this together?"_ Her words echoed, reminding him they were finally alone.

"Yes." He replied, giving her the answer she needed with the truth she was afraid of. "This could change who we are to each other, are you ready for that?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Are you ready for me?"

She answered with her tongue, silencing him with her passionate kisses; she spoke her own rhythmic language, delivering messages of hunger and need with urgency. It was a stark difference to the "in case we die, know this," kiss he gave her in the morgue. Their lips hadn't touched since then and tonight and it seemed so rushed but yet so timely to accelerate from kissing to sex in one night even though their relationship status hung in the air. The benevolent rain gods had decreed that her dry spell was over and though she hadn't completely shed her doubts, her gut told her to go with it and put the Lisa Lisa song in her head on mute and moved her head in position, surprising him.

 _I wonder if I take you home, would you still be in love baby? Because I need you tonight._

To John, she made an interesting study. She struck him as a woman who never had her needs fully met or never expressed them. Either way maybe they never took the time to learn what a woman like her needed: a woman who had never dared to need anybody before. She gave him the garden variety blowjob of a good wife, pleasant but nothing to write home about. It was routine, dutiful even, something checked off a to-do list, he hoped that was something they could work on. He caught her gaze, her eyes looking for something in him but not finding it. It was the look of satisfaction; the reclining head, almost-sleepy eyes and unmistakeable moan of satisfaction that she didn't find.

"You don't like it." She stated, matter of factly.

He tried to let her down gently by not answering. "What I like is...different."

"Different how?" She asked.

"It involves more _depth_."

"Ahhh." He was relieved she didn't take it personally. "I've never done that."

"You don't have to. Just look at me."

She didn't know where he wanted her to look so she zeroed in on his eyes. From her angle they were a darker shade of blue. "This is how it works: we like it, we keep going, we don't, we do something else."

Joss had never heard that before, she always thought of men as selfish lovers. In her mind there were about 30 things she'd like to do with him, but only 20 she'd admit to. "Just like that?"

"Just like that." He pulled her up and she buried her face in his neck. "You smell good. What is that?"

"Sweat." She laughed and the warmth in it made him feel at home; the comfort of an old friend, but more than friends.

He smoothed back her hair and kissed her for her efforts. Definitely more than friends. He couldn't understand what was taking them so long, why they were skirting around the edge of crossing the line. Why did it feel like such a threat? She noticed his drifting away and felt he was losing interest, maybe he had picked up on her thoughts and agreed it was a bad idea. Or maybe not. Just when she thought it might be over for them because he saw reason, he reached for the condoms in the top drawer.

John always wanted to know how, where and when she broke the rules if ever, what her limits were and how far he could push them. But sex with Joss wasn't just a physical quest or a recreational activity, it wasn't the wild ride he imagined, instead it was an opportunity to see inside her. Her gentleness juxtaposed with her aggression, her honesty bridled by bashfulness. And she was a woman with enough curves to travel on. He mentally slapped himself for not grabbing the opportunity with both hands sooner.

He started to understand she needed him like he needed her and maybe their crime was being too proud to say it with words. No words, no music, just actions. His tongue on her nipples. Her fingers in his hair. His mouth wrapped around her navel. Her nails scraped across his back. But nothing compared to being inside of her and watching her face react to each inch as he teased her tightness, hearing her giggle with glee, and feeling her feet drag against his legs. She was normal, perhaps the only normal thing in his life.

Whether it was because of her sex drought, or because she was fulfilling something she'd only imagined and wasn't prepared for, she had no stamina. He felt her back arch as she came, an involuntary contortion that was punctuated by a thud. Her back slumped down against the bed and her eyes turned to slits. She mumbled something incoherent, squeezed her arms around him and drifted to sleep. He looked down at her and rubbed hugs finger on her nose to see if she was fading. Nothing. He slipped his tongue in her ear. Nothing. She was out like a light. A light snort confirmed it. He checked the time on his phone. 12.32am. No messages. He'd probably have to be out by 10am, 9 to be safe. He checked the time again and plotted how to wake her in the morning.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I always wondered what would happen if they had The Talk.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _The morning after, Saturday 18th April 2014, 7.18am, Joss' apartment_

Joss was so used to seeing him on edge that she took for granted that he could relax, sleep and even snore. It was both a surprise and a reminded to wake up next to him, or any man for that matter; that she wasn't alone. At least for the moment. She wasn't one for non-committal sex because it was a losing game and watching him breathe was bringing home the notion that they'd lost something that night and they couldn't get it back. She stood under the shower for long enough to remember; to touch herself where he'd touched, to wash off his scent, to think about how much she wanted to feel him again.

 _7.42am, Joss' apartment_

Against habit John had the deepest sleep he'd had in ages despite the premature end to their night together. He knew she was up before him by the minty scent on her breath and the royal blue t-shirt she was wearing.

"For the record, I like to wake up the same way I went to sleep." He advised, as he was still naked and she wasn't.

She rubbed her chin against his chest. "I bet you do. Look, I don't know what happened last night-"

"You don't remember?" He teased, at first he was annoyed that she left him hanging but he easily got over it when he saw her sleeping peacefully.

She mock-rolled her eyes. "Of course I _remember_ , John. And good morning."

He kissed her cheek. "Good morning. What were you saying?"

She started to explain. "I was really tired and my shift was-"

"You tapped out; it's okay." She sighed. "Don't be embarrassed. It was my fault anyway; I should've talked to you first. About us."

She checked the time on his watch. "Can we have this talk over breakfast?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Breakfast?"

She smiled. "Normal people have breakfast the morning after."

"Or seconds." He hinted.

"When was the last time someone cooked for you?" He was disarmed by her question, he honestly couldn't remember. "Exactly. Besides, these talks go down better on a full stomach." She got out of bed and put on her robe. "I'll get started without you, take a shower if you want."

He wiped the sleep from his eyes.

 _8.15am, Joss' apartment_

She wasn't kidding when she said the conversation went down better with food; John barely paused to breathed as he wolfed down two plates of turkey sausage, scrambled eggs and pancakes. It was no surprise, after that he was receptive to anything she had to say. Joss sipped her white coffee slowly.

"I'm glad you came over last night. Even though you broke into my car and snuck into my house _again_ , I wasn't alone. And that felt good." He smiled. "John, it's still an adjustment for me. Sometimes I don't feel at home here, just knowing they've been here. But then I remember this is my home and I can't let them take that too."

He kicked himself for not realising HR was still at the forefront of her brain, or what his part in that was. "I didn't mean to scare you. Truth is, I didn't know you were scared at all. I just thought you needed company; you've been on your own for a while now and I was worried about you."

"I know. And then there's the sex."

"I thought you liked sex."

"I do. But not with a man who isn't mine."

"What do you call last night?" He asked, out of curiosity.

She sipped. "Two friends risking their friendship to see what it's like being together. You?"

He smirked. "Hot detective passes out from the superior skills of a reformed assassin...and wants seconds."

She shook her head. "You're not gonna let me live it down, are you?"

"Maybe when it's not so fresh in my mind. Tell me what you want from me."

"I want you to call first, let me invite you over. And stop reading my mail; I know you're trying to protect me but if Simmons or any other HR cockroaches make contact I wanna know about it."

"Anything else?"

"Next time bring a bag, I don't want you doing the walk of shame because of me."

"Got it."

"What do you want from me?" She rolled her eyes in advance. "Besides seconds."

"Thirds." He joked.

"And?"

"Another chance to be with you. Like normal people."

"I want that too." She admitted, and like clockwork her cell starting ringing. John caught a glimpse of a man's name before she grabbed it from the kitchen counter with excitement. "Mike! I thought I'd never hear from you again..."

 _Mike?_ He thought.

She nodded along with whatever he was telling her. "Right, she let you down...I knew she would."

 _She what?_

"Sure, I still want it..."

 _Want what?_

"Today?" She checked the time.

 _Today?_

"I can't come over this afternoon, but I can make it tonight. Say 6.30?...Sure, thanks for calling." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Should I be jealous?" He asked, sliding his empty coffee cup along the kitchen counter.

She smirked. "Why? You got a used car for my son?"

"He's getting a car?"

"This summer, as long as he keeps his grades up. With the way he handled this past year I think he deserves it. What'd you think?"

"I think Mike better give you a good deal or I'm heading over there."

"About the _car_ , John." She showed him a picture of the black used Kia on her phone. "You think he'll like it?"

"I think he'll love it." He noted the time on his watch. "I better be going soon, I guess you want to talk to him about last night."

"Yeah I do." She realised what his leaving meant, and the feeling of loneliness washed over her again.

He noticed her energy had shifted, but he couldn't read it yet. He placed his hand on hers. "Hey, it's been a long time since I slept with someone I wanted to wake up to. I forgot what it felt like and I want to feel that way again. So I won't stop checking by here, until we know what we're dealing with. But I can wait until you ask me to come over."

Joss held her breath, he didn't seem like a man who could or would wait for anything.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Reality is quite sobering. I really missed writing Shaw. More Careese to come.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _The morning after, Saturday 18th April 2014, 8.30am, Joss' apartment_

When he was gone, she immediately felt the difference. John was great company; he held her attention, he made her laugh, and when she was with him she never felt alone. So for the next hour she mulled over his words, sceptical about his ability to stay away and surprised by the compulsion to call him back over for seconds. She numbed the feelings by grabbing the purple thing from the top drawer and using thoughts of him to bring her to climax, but it wasn't the same. Her body had a craving and like the knot in her neck, its name was John.

 _9.25am, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

Finch was waiting for John's return somewhat patiently. Shaw, however, swung her legs impatiently off the edge of an empty desk as she had only bothered getting out of bed on the promise of horse riding and gun-toting in Bridgehampton for their new number. John had worked out his unresolved tension at a boxing gym in the city and treated his tardiness with indifference, unsurprisingly Shaw didn't.

"What took you so long? Were you out selling Girls Scout cookies?" She inquired, scanning him with her eyes like a surgeon would a patient.

"Funny." He replied, immune to anything she had to say.

Finch poured him a cup of coffee. "Glad you could join us, Mr Rhys."

She sniffed. "He smells like flowers, sweat, and liquor. Is Zoe back in town?" John didn't answer. "And there I was thinking you got bored and found a new toy to play with." She shrugged her shoulders. "Anyway...who's our latest pin-up?"

Finch tacked a portrait of a grey-haired white man in his 50s to the board. "Herbert Houser, the owner of C. Finn convenience store in Bridgehampton. The property used to be an off-the-books betting shop."

"Used to be, when?" John asked, taking his black coffee sip by sip.

"Six months ago." Finch pinned old newspaper clippings to the board. "Until a friend of ours brought down an organised crime network. Speaking of which, has Detective Fusco heard anything about any HR loyalists?"

Shaw snickered. "We're calling them loyalists, now? How about A-"

John cut her off. "Just chatter. Ever since he brought in Simmons they iced him out so he's been using _unconventional_ types of surveillance."

"Someone's gotta tell Carter." Shaw advised, staring at John.

"There's no point in telling her until there's something to tell." She looked him up and down and sniffed again.

 _9.30am, Joss' apartment_

Joss was relieved when she heard Paul's SUV pulling up outside. She could compartmentalise her nervous energy or _whatever it was_ much better with her son around. Taylor made a beeline for breakfast without saying much as Paul rattled off his birthday party plans at the door and she pretended to listen, nodding her way through talk of the hall, the caterer and his friend's son who was going to DJ.

"Sounds great." She said. "Thanks for getting it together, I haven't been in party planning mode lately."

"Don't mention it. How've you been?"

"Better." She replied, recognising that look on his face; he was about to tell her something she didn't want to hear.

He scratched the back of his neck. "I'll be honest, Taylor was worried about you going back to work. Still is."

"That's 'cause he's got my back. But I'm fine. And he'll be too." She noticed he was rubbing his left eye, that meant he disagreed with her. Even though their marriage ended 10 years ago, she still remembered his tells.

"He went quiet last night, after the movie. Really quiet."

"I'm not surprised; it's a horror flick." She knew why he was telling her; Taylor's emotional well-being was in her realm of parenting and he didn't know what to do with his son when he wasn't happy. She sighed, because that dynamic never changed. "I'll talk to him."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I gotta go. "

Taylor had made a tall stack of turkey sausage, eggs and cheese on toast, finishing off the rest of her breakfast with John. She sat with her back to the sink in the kitchen, hoping he wouldn't notice the pairs of plates and glasses she hadn't washed up yet.

"Here I was thinking you already had breakfast." She commented on his growing appetite.

"Just cereal. And whatever Dad scrambled didn't look like eggs." He squirted ketchup on it and made a sandwich. "You want some?"

She thought it looked revolting. "Nope, I'm still full."

"So…John was here yesterday." He deliberately took a big bite and watched for her reaction.

"Yes, he was."

"O...kay."

She was used to him being of few words whenever he met another of Paul's short-term girlfriends but she wasn't used to being the cause. In fact, she wasn't sure if she was. "Tay, you know if you have something to say, you can say it." She watched him chew slowly, while he chose his words.

"Are you guys together?" He asked, already know the answer and unsure if he liked it or not.

She answered his question with a question. "How would you feel if we were?"

"I guess I wouldn't mind. So you are?"

"We're…taking our time. Seeing what happens. So you're good?"

"Yeah. As long as he's good to you."

"Good, 'cause I don't want you to feel weird if he comes around."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I can tell he cares about you."

She raised an eyebrow. "You can tell? How?"

Taylor was in no mood to talk about the time they spent watching her fight for her life in the hospital, it was awkward enough finding an explanation to give his dad as to why Joss' unseen 'friend' always seemed to be on the visitor's list even though he wasn't family. "I just can."

She looked him up and down. "Are you okay?"

"It's nothing." He ate the rest of his breakfast in silence and she watched him attentively, she knew that despondent look anywhere; John wasn't the problem and neither was she, he was lovesick. "How was the movie? What was it? Chainsaw Cheerleaders?"

"Yeah, the sequel sucked." He sighed deeply, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"What's her name, Tay?" She asked intuitively, sliding a glass of milk his way. "You might as well tell me instead of taking it to the field."

"Mom," He groaned.

"Hey, you know me and I know you; I'll wait as long as it takes and eventually you'll tell me. So skip the eventually, so we can make it to your game on time."

He knew she could outlast him so he conceded. "Farrah. She was there with some d-bag last night. I heard her laughing when the quarterback got hacked to pieces and they did the _Kill-die-be dead_ cheer."

She wasn't ready for that image so early in the morning. "Did you ask her out?"

"No." He knew she was about to reason with him and he didn't want to hear it.

"Then you can't be mad at her 'cause someone asked her first."

"I'm _not_." His tone said he was.

"Tay, there are other girls. Other smart and pretty girls who'd love to go out with you and watch cheerleaders hack people to pieces. Did you tell Dad?"

"No. It doesn't matter anyway."

She smiled at his inherited propensity to deny his feelings and decided to drop the topic. "I'm looking forward to your game today."

"Why? We never win."

She smiled because it was true; his team was pitiful on a bad day and middling at best. "No you don't, but I want to be there for you; and I can't do that hauled up in this house."

He realised how long it had been since she left the house for something other than work, church or her weekly hair appointment at Janelle's hair shop. If he couldn't feel better about the girl he couldn't have, at least he could fake it for her sake. "Maybe this game'll be different."

They smiled, knowing it wouldn't.

 _3.00pm, Pine Run Equestrian Center, Bridgehampton, New York_

Shaw's dismount from the white Appaloosa with black spots was impressive, for someone with such a heavy walk, she was a graceful rider. She had been off the beaten track, inspecting as much of the 400-acre farm on horseback as she could in the time they booked. John waited for her in the car, having come up empty on former-HR contacts in the area so far.

"I found an old race track, looks like their trying to clean it up and get the old business going." She told him, sliding into the passenger's seat. "Lunch?" He passed her a greasy brown bag. "Nothing to wash it down with?" She asked, expectantly. "Where's Curly Fries when you need him? At least he gets my order right." She mumbled, biting down on her chicken and bacon double cheeseburger.

"This doesn't feel like HR." He told her.

"So what if it doesn't? Herbie Hancock needs us, or whatever." He was touched by her concern and amused by her butchering of the number's name. "Next time, ask for extra mustard. It's dry."

He noticed she didn't slow down on eating it. "If I was running an illegal horse-racing ring, I'd want a nice little business to launder money through. Like a convenience store. I'd pay good money to put my money through that cash register. And the owner wouldn't give, I'd persuade him otherwise."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, break his legs and all that." She sniffed again. "You wearing new perfume, Johnny-come-lately?" He started the engine. "Or is it Eau de Carter?"

"Shaw." He warned.

"No wonder you've been on an HR ghost hunt for the past six months."

"We all have." He rationalised.

"Yeah. Right. Whatever. You know it'll never work." She told him, equally out of spite and concern. "She's not like us. She has a real life, she's not dead on paper and she's got people who'll miss her when she's gone. Think about that the next time you screw her senseless."


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Shaw vs. John for Carter?  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 18th April 2014, 5.58pm, Bridgehampton, New York_

As they drove with the sounds of _The Doors_ and Shaw's loud crunching of crinkle-cut potato chips, the appealing thought of screwing Joss senseless was on his mind. It shouldn't have been because Finch had sent them the CCTV footage of a Roma gang that ran a successful illegal horse racing ring upstate.

"You're slipping already." Shaw told him. "You missed the junction."

"I'll take the next one. What's your problem, Shaw? You know you never had a shot."

"You don't know that." She said with conviction.

He cleared his throat. "Actually I do."

"She's a sorority girl, the possibilities are endless." She stated casually, surprised he didn't have a retort. "You didn't know?" He didn't have to look at her to know she was smirking with the satisfaction of knowing something he didn't. "What do you know about her?"

"She has a birthmark on her back." He fired back, hoping to shut her up.

She slurped her drink so hard he could hear the ice at the bottom. "I'm serious. And what does she know about you? Are you gonna lie awake and talk about all those missions you were on? All the orders you took? There's a reason why you stay alone when you've done what we've done; it's not for us, it's for them."

"Coming from a woman who's most functional relationship is with a dog."

"They looked from dog to man, and from man to dog and couldn't tell which was which."

She punctuated her butchering of the end of _Animal Farm_ with another long, obnoxious slurp and he turned up the volume in protest.

 _6.40pm, Joss' apartment_

As the only stylist she let touch her hair since she joined the NYPD, Janelle was more than a hairdresser; she was an image consultant, a confidant, and her mother's informant. By asking what state her hair was in when she sat in her chair, and what Janelle did to it, Evelyn knew what was going on and if there was a man in her life. So when she heard Joss' press showed signs of humidity and sweat, she eagerly called her on Saturday evening around the time she would've been getting dressed for a date, that's if she had a man around to take her on one.

"Jocelyn," She greeted, melodically.

"How's it going, Ma? How was the Botanical Gardens?" She switched windows on her tablet and flicked through the shoe website she'd heard about at the hair shop.

"You know they've got a Healing Plants exhibition on? All these plants from the Amazon rainforest. I told Gregory, if they want healing plants they should go to South Carolina not South America."

"I hear you." She replied, zooming in on some strappy shoes she knew would make her feet hurt but she was going to buy anyway.

"I heard _someone_ got their hair pressed yesterday."

"I always get my hair pressed on Saturday." She replied, matter-of-factly. Evelyn often initiated this game of gleaning information and the best defence was to give away as little as possible.

"Hmmm. You sound relaxed."

"I am; Mike called about the car, I signed for it today."

"Good, the sooner he's driving the better for all of us. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." As soon as she said, she didn't know if it was true or not.

"I was thinking it's a shame about Calvin. But you did all you could and you should find peace in that, Jocelyn."

She sighed. "Thanks Ma."

"So we'll see you tomorrow? Gregory's playing a special arrangement of Abide with me."

"Of course, fifth row from the front."

"Good...any plans for this evening?"

Taylor dragged his feet past her and headed for the kitchen like a lovesick puppy looking for a snack. So instead of lying, she resolved to make him feel better and take her mind off the man in the suit. "I'm taking Taylor to a boxing match."

"Oh...that's nice."

To an untrained ear, Evelyn seemed satisfied for the moment, Joss knew she would probably bring it up again after lunch when her defences were down. She didn't know why she was buying new shoes; It seemed so futile, John wasn't a pick-her-up-and-take-her-out kind of guy, he was a man whose whereabouts were mostly unknown. But she clicked the checkout button anyway.

 _9.08pm, C. Finn Convenience Store, Bridgehampton, New York_

Shaw was handling John's indifference and her jealousy as well as could be expected. When a gang member showed up at the convenience store to convince "Herbert" to sell tickets for an upcoming race Shaw didn't hesitate to slam his body against the car.

"The next time-" _Slam._ "Herbie here-" _Slam._ "Tells you-" _Slam._ "He's a hardworking man-" _Slam._ "Who doesn't want any trouble-" _Slam._ "Believe him."She pulled him up so she was nose to bloody nose with his face. "You'll believe him, won't you?" The man mumbled something incoherent, blood was running down his face. She looked dead at John. "See there? Communication." He wondered if that was how he looked. "Now tell whoever sent you, that Herbie's store is clean and it's gonna stay clean 'cause if it doesn't they'll end up looking like you; the guy with the broken arm."

"Whaa?" The man asked as she pulled him to the ground in a Kimura arm lock.

John understood what Finch meant about her use of excessive force and grew disturbed by the man's cries coupled with the glee on her face. He pulled her off him and dragged her to her side of the car. "I get that you're mad – _madder_ – tonight and in some weird way this made you feel better, but I can't let you do this." He opened the door. "Are you gonna get in voluntarily?" She didn't budge, her adrenaline was pumping and she really wanted to get back on the floor and put the man in a submission move of her choosing. "Just get in voluntarily Shaw." He sighed and spoke through gritted teeth. " _Please_ , get in the car Shaw." She got in the car begrudgingly, and slammed the door behind her.

 _11.41pm, Maximum Sports Bar & Restaurant, Midtown, New York _

The waiter dressed like a referee brought another serving of onion rings and buffalo wings, a root beer and a margarita.

"I didn't order that." Joss corrected him. "I asked for a lemonade."

"It's from the guy at the bar, ma'am."

Taylor looked over her shoulder and spotted a man who was tall, dark and hopeful. "Tay, stop staring, he'll think I'm interested. Take it back please, I just want a lemonade."

"Sure." The waiter took the drink away and Taylor smirked as the man's face turned from hope to disappointment.

"Take note, _that_ is _not_ how you show a woman you're interested." She advised. "If you like a girl, talk to her and ask her out. And if she says no, just take it on the chin."

He smiled, she was back to giving unsolicited advice. "And what if she's already out?"

"I don't get it." She noticed he was looking over her shoulder again. "Stop that, he's gonna come over here and then I'll have to turn him down and it'll be really awkward..."

"Then spare my feelings and let me down easy." She looked up at his resting mischievous face and shook her head. "Don't just stand there John, pull up a seat."

Taylor pushed the basket of onion rings in his direction and got up. "Where are you going?" Joss asked, feeling set-up and tag-teamed.

"Pinball machine. Hey John."

"Taylor." He nodded, finding Joss' annoyance amusing.

"Is this what I get for asking you to call first?" She asked, when her lemonade arrived.

"Joss, there are no rules we have to follow. So from now on, no rules, safe words maybe, but no rules. Okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know no rules is technically a rule right? And if I recall correctly you've been breaking every rule I've set since the day we met, starting with the law, then that thing about personal boundaries."

"Are you gonna eat those?" He asked, referring to the buffalo wings.

"No, bon appetit."

He rubbed his hands together. "Good. Did you enjoy last night?"

She looked around, the noise was enough to drown out any conversation but she couldn't fathom why he'd chosen a public place to have a private discussion. "You know I did." She said, hurriedly.

"You think a lot. I noticed."

"You did?"

"You think about what others think of you."

"I think a lot of what _I_ think of me, John. Anyway, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out somewhere raising hell with Shaw?"

He stared at her. "Isn't it obvious?"


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N:_ **Killer Mike's Biggest Fan** _calls this the ambush date, so let's go with it. **SWWoman** gave the prompt for the John/Taylor talk so credit where it's due._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 18th April 2014, 11.50pm, Maximum Sports Bar & Restaurant, Midtown, New York _

For a reason she wouldn't admit to, sitting across from John made her cross her legs and clench tight, regardless of what he was saying. She was in a mood where anything he said would've sounded good to her. So she sat there and watched his lips move as he told her a story about horses and something about a car door slamming. It was only when she realised that Shaw's temper had flared more that usual that she connected the dots.

"So she knows...and she's mad."

He smiled, it was ironic that they had caused an emotional response. "I guess the tin man has a heart after all."

"Never trust a doctor who diagnoses herself. You want something to drink? There's a margarita that's already paid for."

"No, I came here to see if you were okay." He asked. "You seem jumpy."

"I'm fine. I wasn't expecting to see you that's all." She looked around the room again, this time for any familiar faces. The only one she could see was Taylor who was playing air hockey with a boy she didn't recognise. "Especially here. With my son."

"Do you want me to talk to Taylor?" He asked.

"About us? I already have, and he's fine with it."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I don't want him to get the wrong idea."

"What would that be? That I care about you and would do a number of things on and off the books to protect you? That you want me as much as I want you? Or that neither of us wants to be alone tonight? There's nothing wrong about that."

She sighed. "No, there isn't."

"Okay, then what's the wrong idea?"

"That it's okay for you to just show up whenever."

"Are we talking about _you_ or Taylor? You know Joss, it's okay to admit what you want when you want it."

"When it's just us, if it was just us, I could. But it's not John. It's not okay for you to spend the night just because you want to."

"Do _you_ want me to?" Against her better judgement, she nodded. He went for the jugular. "I knew it was just a matter of time until you invited me in."

"John."

"I'm just kidding."

"You're not. But I have a kid so I can't be selfish."

He knew there was more behind what she was saying but it wasn't the time or the place to push further. "I understand. As much as I can."

She smiled. "You know he's gonna ask you what you do, and where you learnt that badass breed of martial arts."

He prepared his answer, trying not to lie. "I work with the government, helping people. And it's a cross-breed of various martial arts with combat."

"Touché. Is it redundant to ask if you're gonna follow us home?" He nodded. "Of course it is. _If_ , hypothetically speaking, I invite you in for coffee, will you behave?"

She didn't get an answer because Taylor ran out of quarters and patience. He sensed the tension between them, like he had intruded on their private moment. Taylor knew John cared for her but he wasn't fond of the hungry way John looked at her; like he wanted her and would stop at nothing to have her. His discomfort came from the fact that instead of taking her out and wining and dining her in the city like Cal did, she had shared her treasured place and sanctuary, their home, with him.

"It's getting late." Joss told him, getting the attention of the waiter. "We should head home soon. But before then, John wants to talk to you."

He raised his eyebrows. "Me?"

Joss handed him her credit card and grabbed her jacket. "Alone. And then he'll drive you home. Right?"

He saw the challenge in her eyes and accepted, part of her wanted a way out of an awkward situation and it was her creative way of making him put his money where his mouth was. "Right." He agreed, deciding to play her game.

Taylor didn't appreciate his attentive stare at her backside as she left, if he couldn't take his eyes off her at least he could be discrete about it. More surprising was Joss, who'd never left him with anyone she was seeing before.

"So..." He started. "What'd you wanna talk about?"  
John had no idea how to do this, and quickly realised that was the point. "You've been through a lot this year. Both of you."  
"Yeah, we have." He hated talking about the shooting with a passion and hoped they wouldn't have to go there.  
"I wish I could've done more to help her that night but I did what I could. I don't want to see any more harm come her way, and it won't if I can help it."  
"Is she in danger still?"  
"Not that I know of. But we're looking out for her. And you."

"You mean you and the guy with the glasses. Right?" He asked.

John was impressed by his skills of deduction. "You're Joss' son, alright."

"Why are you telling me instead of just doing it? I mean, I thought you guys didn't talk about work."  
John cleared his throat. "Because it's not something I _have_ to do; I want to do it."  
The penny dropped. "Because you love her." Taylor stated, it was clear before he said it.  
"I haven't told her that, but it's true. So I hope we can keep that between us."  
"Yeah, sure. God, this is weird. I mean it's good, I guess but...weird."  
"It is, but it's not."  
Taylor couldn't remember when he last heard a man say _I love you_ to her, if ever. "Are you gonna tell her?"  
"Your mom's not the type of woman to trust a man's word, she needs proof."  
"I hear you."  
John read his sad smile. "Did I say something?"  
The waiter brought over the bill. "No, I'm good. We've got church in the morning so I'll get this, and we can go."  
"It's okay, I'll get it."  
"Thanks."

 _Sunday 19th April 2014, 12.40am, Joss' apartment_

Taylor was calm but quiet on the ride home and his return. He pretended not to mind that Joss had invited him in for a nightcap but held on to the faith that John wasn't staying because she wouldn't do that. He had enough of pretending to like Paul's girlfriends even though the revolving door had a three to six month time limit. His current girlfriend, Tracey, was on her way out and he was glad; for a woman who talked non-stop she never actually said anything worth remembering.

"It's not so easy, huh?" Joss asked after he went upstairs, she was going through the cupboards in the kitchen for the last of the Kenyan coffee she gave to visitors, not that she had any of late. He sat comfortably at the kitchen island watching her butt again. "Talking to a 16-year-old, I mean."

"It's not so bad. He's a great kid. Seen a lot for his age."

She stopped looking to face him. "He's tough, I'm trying to teach him he doesn't have to be all the time. But that takes trust."

"You want him to trust me."

She smiled. "And trust takes time." She changed subject and resumed her search. "Did you talk to our friend about the street cameras?"

Against habit, John came in through the front door. "Already been scrubbed, I'll leave the normal way."

She nodded, the fire escape was their normal. "All I have is instant, the good stuff is finished."

"I don't need coffee, I need sleep."

She stared at him again; sleeping naked with John brought her a lot of peace, but being awake and naked with John was the start of her troubles. " _I_ need sleep too, John."

"Make up your mind, do you want me to behave?"

"No." She admitted. "I want you to _mis_ behave, quietly. But that's not an option, tonight."

He didn't know if she was joking or not because usually she was contradictory with him, saying one thing then doing another.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: So you know by now I love to keep the complications coming, even just emotional non-governmental ones._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Sunday 19th April 2014, 1.06am, Joss' apartment_

Taylor heard them talking downstairs, though he couldn't make out their words, and Joss was giggling. She laughed sometimes but she never giggled. In fact, the last time he heard her giggle was when she read him a bedtime story and she hadn't done that since he was 8. She was different when John was around; lighter, more carefree, comfortable. She was happy. He wondered how or why his dad wasn't able to do that for her and it made him mad because Paul was always happy, regardless of how his actions affected anyone else. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door shutting downstairs and he was relieved because John wasn't staying.

Joss knocked on his bedroom door to distract him from figuring out John was some way down the fire escape and it was she who closed the door. "You still up?"

"Yeah."

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." He moved a pile of clothes off his swivel chair and she resisted the urge to tell him that just because his room was an organised chaos, it was still chaos. "You wanna talk about John." He grabbed his blue stress ball and started the rhythmic squeezing a counsellor once said would help relieve tension.

"I do. It's not easy to find someone who understands what I do. So I wanna give it a shot."

"I know." He sat on his bed and faced her. "It's just...I didn't know you were that serious."

"Tay, we just got together."

"It doesn't feel that way."

She raised an eyebrow. "Did he say something?"

"No, why?" He lied, not because he wanted to but because it wasn't his place to repeat it. He was just digesting the fact there was a man who said he loved her and had the bullet marks to prove it.

"'Cause I thought you might feel better if you guys had a chance to talk but it seems like-"

"No, Ma. It's all good. Really."

"Okay." She didn't believe him. "Are you looking forward to your party?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess."

"I'm sure you'll find someone else to go with, Tay. Just don't mention it to Grandma, or she'll hook you up with a-"

" _Nice girl from church_." They said in unison.

 _10.11am, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

"Good morning, Mr Reese." Finch greeted, inhaling the buttery scent of his freshly warmed croissant. "Breakfast?"

"You called me here for breakfast? Come on, Finch."

He smiled. "I may not have the selection Detective Carter has, but I'm sure you'll find something to your liking. Toast?"

John gave in, after leaving Joss' much earlier than he would've liked to because for once she meant what she said, he spent the night alone. He dropped a bacon rasher on the floor for Bear and bit into a hash brown. "Say it."

"Say what?"

"Whatever Shaw would've said if she was wired properly."

He sipped his Sencha green tea. "Although she is a priority, she's not a number. And when her safety is not in question, she's a priority of varying importance."

"We don't know that's she's in the clear." John reasoned.

"If she's not, we'll know. And we'll be prepared next time. _If_ there is a next time." Finch saw her shooting as a failure too, but a human error rather than a personal one. "Do you want there to be a next time?"

John was floored. "How could you ask that? Why would I want her to be hurt again?"

"Because it forced you to confront your feelings for her; feelings you're not sure if she reciprocates. And in the time she refused to see you, you learnt what it would be like without her in your life."

Three months. It took three months for Joss to agree to see him after the shooting and even though she was in physiotherapy, he blamed himself as though she had died on his watch. Determined to never let that happen again, he had done double duty since she got home, watching for signs and listening for words that may not have been there. And he fed off the paranoia, it gave him a reason to self-flagellate. At times like this he resented Finch for knowing him well enough to make the observation, but as it was, he had no choice but but to listen to his advice.

"If you pursue a relationship with her, I'm asking you to remember where your loyalty lies; with the people of New York City and beyond."

"Aye, aye, Captain." He replied with a mock salute.

 _Wednesday 23rd April 2014, 6.50pm, Mulberry High School, Brooklyn_

It always felt a bit odd to be with her ex-husband, until they sat beside the other divorced parents; staring at their cell phones, tapping away at their laptops, and avoiding human contact mostly with each other. It was their first parent-teacher conference she could remember Paul attending and after playing verbal tennis with his teachers and scribbling away on her notepad, she was ready to get out of the building with a few pleasantries and head home. But it didn't work like that because he wanted to pick her brains about something and chose the parking lot as the place to do it.

"Are you seeing someone?" He asked, out of the blue.

She was baffled, because she assumed her personal life was off limits seeing as she never asked about his. "Where did that come from?"

"Taylor's been short with me since the movie."

"Short how?" She asked, looking around for spectators.

"He's not saying much and Susan said it's a typical response for kids his age to withdraw when their parents are in new relationships."

 _At least he's still seeing his counsellor_ , she thought. "His name is John. It's early days but they had a talk last week." He rubbed his neck, she could tell he wasn't happy. "You know it takes time for Taylor to deal with things, to think things through. So don't take it personal. Just be there when he's ready, that's what I do."

"It must be serious. I mean, for you to introduce him to Taylor."

"They've known each other for a while." She could've gone on but that would've led to how John and Taylor first met and she resolved never to tell that story. Even Evelyn didn't know about the kidnapping and she wanted to keep it that way.

"Oh. So it _is_ serious." She sighed, he knew she was losing patience with him.

"Is it serious for you and Tracey?" She asked, deflecting.

"Joss." They both knew it wasn't. He was on the verge of breaking up with Tracey because she wasn't fun anymore and their relationship has run its course.

"What? You introduced her to Taylor, and the cheerleader, and the air hostess and the..."

"I got it. Joss, if you're serious about this guy to the point where he's talking to my son; I want to meet him. It's only fair."

"I've never met any of your girlfriends, not that I wanted to."

"That's different."

"Why?"

He cleared his throat. "'Cause you said you don't want to meet anyone I wouldn't marry. And I respect that."

In that, she understood that he thought the same applied to her, and that's why John was around. "Let's just say you'll meet him when the time is right."

He nodded. "Thanks."


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: So I got the biggest laugh out of the Ciara/Future references (and_ **Kiki** _'s back, major smiley face), I would write it in but I hate anachronism and this fic is set last year.  
_

 _Random fact; I've realised how much food plays a role in my writing, maybe I shouldn't stop writing when I'm hungry..._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 25th April 2014, 6.35pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst, Queens_

Sobbing, wailing and short breaths; those were the sounds Taylor was greeted with on his return from 90 minutes of soccer drills. Even in tears, Tracey was capable of letting off a tirade about how much of a jerk he was for breaking-up with her. Usually Taylor would've been relieved that another bit the dust, but looking at her face made his stomach turn with anxiety.

"Taylor." Paul looked guilty; he had imagined her taking the news much better and leaving sooner. "Son,"

For a reason he didn't understand, he was deeply disturbed by it. "Sorry Tracey. He handed her the box of tissues on the coffee, avoided eye contact with Paul and went upstairs.

 _8.42pm, Canarsie, Brooklyn_

Fusco held a cold soda can up to the knot on the side of his head. Joss didn't know who was suffering more, him for taking a hit earlier on in the day or her as his sedan stank of curly fries and smoked frankfurters, making her queasy. They were waiting for the perpetrator of a hit-and-run homicide to come home.

"Is there something you wanna tell me, Carter?" He asked.

"Like what?"

"Like why you're clock-watching when we're supposed to be waiting for our guest to show up." He knew not to ask too much, she seemed to be between a somewhat better mood than usual and a lower level of patience; he didn't know it as the result of Paul and John's worlds moving closer together against her desire.

She would never admit that Paul had gotten under her skin especially since his holding her to a higher moral standard than him reminded her eerily of their marriage. "We won't miss him, he's a kids entertainer. I'm looking out for the superhero costume."

"I heard you pissed off Sporty Spice and she's been unleashed all week." He elbowed her. "Glasses thinks she needs etiquette lessons."

"Shaw?" She laughed. "Polishing school? No. Polishing steel? Yes."

"For the record, if there's anyone who can keep him straight, it's you."

"You're just a regular news bulletin, aren't you Lionel?"

He gave her one of his signature one-sided smiles. "Since you don't tell me, I have to find out myself."

"Just what I need in my life, another man spying on me."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean looking out for me in the least stalker-like way possible. Can I ask you something personal?"

"It's real hair, all mine, no toupee."

"Cornball."

"Shoot."

"Does Jean ever introduce you, when she's dating?"

"As what?" He joked,

"I'm serious, Lionel. How would you feel if she did?"

"What is this, Feelings Friday? Right between Throwback Thursday and Sucky Saturday?"

She saw through his sarcasm. "That bad, huh?"

"All I'm saying is I don't want another man spending more time with my son than I do, but she got primary custody so it's not up to me. What's up? Paul wants to meet him?"

"Yeah."

"You want my honest opinion?"

She braced herself. "Yeah."

"Sounds like a pissing contest to me."

"Thanks for the image."

"You're welcome." He peeled open the soda can and she shook her head at his insight.

 _9.03pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst, Queens_

Even when Tracey slammed the front door shut on her way out, Taylor didn't come downstairs and that was two hours ago. The _Collard Greens_ song Paul hated was playing on a loop in Taylor's room so knocking was futile. His room was a mess and it served as proof he still didn't have a girlfriend.

"Hey son, what are you working on?"

"An article for my Journalism class."

It's Friday, you should be out with your friends. You can do it later."

It's due on Monday with my lab report, and my French film review."

"Yeah? What film?" He asked, sitting on the only clear spot on the bed.

" _Au revoir, les enfants_."

"What's it about?"

"A Jewish boy in a Catholic boarding school in World War Two."

"Sounds deep. You know I forget how much work they give you."

He was still surprised by his dad's ability to ignore the elephant in the room. "I'm used to it."

"Any luck with your date?"

"I asked Lydia."

He blinked. Your lab partner? I thought you were just friends."

"We are."

"Well, she seems nice, from the times she's been over here."

"We're _just_ friends, that's all."

"Okay. Just so you know, I talked to your mom about her friend."

"What friend?"

"John."

"John? Why?"

"'Cause he's around. 'Cause he's around you." Taylor believed that as much as he believed in the Easter bunny. "What do we know about this guy except he's called John? Does he have a last name?" Taylor reached for his headphones to block out the nonsense. "Taylor, I'm talking to you."

"Is Tracey still crying downstairs?"

Paul cleared his throat thinking he'd almost made it through the conversation without discussing it. "She left already. Sometimes things don't work out. Not every relationship lasts forever and when it's over, it's over."

"I know that." He turned his back to him and started typing angrily on ChatCloset.

Paul realised his foot was so far in his mouth, it was halfway down his throat. "Tay, I was talking about Tracey, not your mom. I would never-"

"Can I do my homework now?"

He was taken aback by his lack of response. "Sure."

 _11.30pm, John's apartment, Soho_

John's one-bedroom apartment was a wonder to her. It seemed odd that someone who lived off the grid for so long could have a place with a colour scheme and furniture that matched. It was cream and brown, modern, like someone had put a lot of thought into it, just not him.

"What is this place?" She asked, noticing he had opaque blinds instead of curtains.

"Home, for the time being." He replied, flicking on a lamp in the living room.

"And how long is that?"

"Until I move on." He smirked, waiting for her reaction.

"You planning on moving, John? Running away somewhere?"

"Gotta switch it up, can't get too predictable." He smoothed the hair out of her face. "Besides, you know where to find me." He kissed her softly. "And how." He unbuttoned her work shirt revealing a silver grey lace bra. She was relieved this time her underwear matched. "Can't get too predictable. Take your shirt off."

"John."

"I took mine off at your house."

"Only 'cause you wanted to wear me with down with your...sneaky sex strategies."

He laughed, pulling her shirt off. "Anyone ever tell you you have a way with words?"

She pulled the gun holster off her hip and batted her eyelashes. "What were you saying?"

"Gimme the gun, Joss." He coaxed it out of her hand.

"I wasn't gonna shoot you, it was just a reminder." She looked around the room, the Van Gogh _Sunflowers_ print on the wall, the _Yellow Pages;_ it was so normal _._

"You done sightseeing?" He asked, noticing her active eyes taking in the room. "Still in Detective mode?"

"Sorry. It's hard to switch it off."

He unbuttoned her jeans and slips his hand down past the lace. With her lips slighted parted, she clenched around his finger, hyper-sensitive to his touch. "Do you like that?"

Her wordless nod permitted him to slide in another finger and strum gently, stroking her G-spot as she tried to control her irregular breaths. To his surprise, her moans came out as hums in tune and he thought it must be nice to hear her singing.

She can't believe this is what counted for a dinner date in John's world, in fact, it wasn't a date at all; it was just her, John, and their impulses in an empty room again. He was doing that thing again, bringing her walls down, weakening her resolve, making her lose control. But it felt so good, to be with a man who didn't need instructions, and who didn't touch her the same way he touched other women; going through the motions. It was working, because she was relaxing again.

And then her stomach growled, and it wasn't discrete; it sounded like an underwater exploration. She couldn't believe this was happening; what happened to the benevolent rain gods that ended her dry spell? Was the God she actually prayed to conspiring against her because she had no business being there?

He stopped and laughed. "You should've said you were hungry."

She sighed. "I can't catch a break with you, I just can't."

He kissed her forehead. "I should have something in the fridge, bear in mind I'm not into grocery shopping."

His fridge was almost bare, except for the dozen eggs, longlife milk, steak and butter. Surprisingly his freezer was packed with frozen meats and a few bags of frozen vegetables. "So you live like a caveman and you eat like one too, figures." She commented, wondering what he was capable of in the kitchen that was so small she could touch both walls with her arms spread out.

"Why don't you pick the wine? Right above you." The cupboard above her head housed five unopened red wine bottles. "Don't ask me which is which, Finch sent them."

She smiled at the thought of Finch's knowledge going to waste because they were too uncultured and uninterested to care. "I guess the Australian one will be good. This is a nice place you got, John."

"It was furnished before I moved in; they all are."

"I see." She couldn't imagine a man like him walking down the aisles of an interior décor store, picking out tile patterns.

"So," He took a griddle pan from a hook on the wall. "Ever had sex on that kitchen counter of yours?"

"What?"

"You heard."

"Actually, it's an island. And no, I haven't."

"Shame. There are glasses somewhere. I don't know where." She looked through the cupboards and found short glasses, tumblers and some chipped mugs. "How'd you like your steak?"

"Well done."

He smiled. "Boring. Try medium rare."

"It's your place, I'll try it." She pulled the mugs out. "No wine glasses but these'll do."

"So why not? It's such a waste."

"Of what?"

"A good counter."

"Oh, that. Just because."

"Because...?" He probed, putting the steaks on heat.

"Because I don't bring men home."

"As a rule?"

"As common sense. I don't think it's a good idea to bring a man around my son unless I really know him, and trust him...and run an extensive background check. And even after all that I can't."

"Then it's a good thing you already know my rap sheet inside out." He plated the buttery steak. "Try that."

 _11.30pm, John's apartment, Soho_

" _Darling yoooooooou, send me, you send me, you send me..."_ Roy Ayers crooned as John poured her another full mug of red wine as she sat on the floor of his tiny living room, resting her back against the leather sofa. A huge black plasma screen watched them as he moved closer to her. His grainy shaved chin brushed against her shoulder. It didn't take much convincing for him to take his shirt off in exchange for her boots. "You always smell good, what is that?"

"Jasmine oil."

"Jasmine. I won't forget that." He kissed his way from her shoulder up to her neck. "Take off your jeans."

She smirked. "Why?"

"So we can misbehave, not so quietly."

She stood up and pulled her jeans down to her hips. "Did you stock up?"

"Yep," He looked up at her. "I've got thick, thin, hot and cold, flavoured, textured and glow in the dark."

A smile spread across her face. "Let's start with hot and cold and work our way to glow in the dark."


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N:_ **DreadWomen** _asked me where the Paul/John one-word greeting in Body Count came from (Chapter 42) and prompted their first meeting so this should lead to that._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 26th April 2014, 1.44am, John's apartment, Soho_

This time Joss saved face by lasted three rounds before running out of energy. His insatiable appetite coupled with her sexual inhibitions made for a maddening combination; he hadn't cracked to formula to make her open up to him and as she didn't, there was something missing every time they were together. The problem was she lived in her head, and until he could take up residence there too, she would always be able to but a mental block on her body; she would enjoy it as much as she allowed herself to. But if he knew her better he would know that moving so fast had scared her back into her shell, as much as he drew her out sexually she was retreating emotionally; afraid of loving him and whatever that meant.

She lifted her face off the pillow and slumped down onto his chest. He pulled her tighter. Strands of her hair were stuck to her face. "Would you really sleep in a bathtub?"  
"That's an odd question."

"In Texas, you said you would but they had a shower, so you slept on the floor instead. Remember?"

"No. But I've slept at a bus station so a bathtub can't be that bad. Except for the dripping." He kissed her clammy forehead.  
"That's a sad story." The slow blinking of her drowsy eyes made him feel a way he couldn't describe.

"Don't worry about me."

She chucked lightly and whispered. "You don't understand. You're a good man, John, you should come out of the rain..." And she drifted off to sleep, confusing him.

 _10.13am, Paul's house, Elmhurst, Queens_

" _Sometimes things don't work out. Not every relationship lasts forever and when it's over, it's over."_

Those words were ringing in his head when he finally got to sleep after three in the morning. Taylor was sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop when Paul brought in two bags of groceries. He couldn't believe how easy-going he was, going about his business as though last night never happened.

"Hey, I got those potato chips you like."

"Thanks," _Jerk._

"And I tried knocking for you earlier but you must have stayed up late. Did you get your work done last night?"

"Most of it." _Jerk._

"About last night, I'm sorry. I would never talk about your mom that way 'cause I don't feel like that. I didn't feel like that." He noticed Taylor was staring into space. "Tay. Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Then what's wrong with you? Is it John? 'Cause if it is-"

"It's not. It's...forget it." _It's you, you jerk._

He sat at the table and probed. "So you get on with him?"

Taylor wondered where his was going. "Yeah. Are you mad?"

He lied through his teeth. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad? There's nothing to be mad about. But I do wanna meet him."

"Dad, you can't-"

"You're my son. _Mine_. I need to make sure this John guy is cool."

His hands reached for the stress ball on reflex, but it wasn't there. "Like you made sure Tracey was cool." He mumbled, but Paul caught it.

He raised his eyebrows. "I thought you liked her."

He finally told the truth. "She's a moron."

"Taylor."

"She thinks _Borat_ 's a documentary."

He couldn't disagree with that. "Okay, so you didn't like her but she's out of my life now. We can get back to being just us. Let's do something fun, go somewhere. It's Saturday."

"Where?"

"Philly, just the two of us. Or Newark, I've got some friends there. We could get out of town, forget about all this stuff and Marlon's son's about your age. You remember Kenny..."

He sighed. Taylor's blank facial expression showed hadn't inherited the ability to ignore his problems, just the ability to suppress them below the surface. I wasn't talking about your mom last night, Tay. You know that. Don't you?"

"I guess."

 _11.25am, John's apartment, Soho_

Joss woke up in an empty bed, somehow she'd missed her alarm and two calls from Paul. But most of all she missed the feeling of John holding her and the security it brought. She didn't know where her ambivalence came from and the conflicting thoughts were giving her a headache. So she gathered her clothes assuming he was gone, until she smelt the eggs from his micro-kitchen. The coffee table was covered in floor plans and she kicked herself for thinking he bailed on her. He had already marked up the exits on the five-storey mansion on 5th Avenue.

"You ever heard of Phinneas Montgomery?" He asked, casually, giving her a plate of scrambled eggs.

"Good morning to you too."

"Don't you mean good afternoon?" He teased.

"You should've woke me up."

"Why? I like Sleeping Beauty Joss."

She found a comfy spot on the sofa and thought of where she'd heard the name before. The buttery, cheesy scrambled eggs melted in her mouth. "He's the millionaire behind the Montgomery Trust that protects indigenous wildlife on the East Coast. Mmm, these are _good_."

"You're welcome."

"So why is a man who wants to save the beavers on your radar?"

"'Cause his number came up and I can think of 50 million reasons to mess with him. He has a fundraising gala at Chatsworth House tonight and Finch scored two tickets. So, I was thinking-"

Her phone rang again and she couldn't ignore Paul this time. "Hold that thought. Hi Paul...I'm fine...no, he hasn't said anything...I don't think so...He was fine yesterday... what happened?... of course he'd feel that way...Because it's a trigger, Paul...No... Because it's too soon and we already talked about it... Just talk to him...you can if you try...okay...Have fun...Yeah I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Her demeanour had changed, she was on edge again, and the frown lines in her forehead told a long story. "That was-"

"Paul. I know." He rubbed her arm. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Finch should look into whoever stands to gain if anything happens to Montgomery, and who his major donators are. How did he get rich in the first place?"

"He's old money. Tell me what's going on."

She sighed as thought the fun was being drained from her. "Paul dumped his girlfriend last night, and Taylor's upset and now he's upset 'cause he can't handle it so he took him out of town."

"Why?"

"To avoid talking about it."

"Again, why?

"Because he's Paul and that's what he does."

He blinked. "I don't get it."

"You wouldn't."

He nodded. "He's an asshole."

"John."

"Okay, he's _being_ an asshole. By calling you to clean up his mess."

"You don't know him. He can't handle it."

"But he can plan a birthday party while you do... everything else?"  
She sighed deeply, as the least satisfying part of her life closely tied to the most. "You don't understand."  
"I understand that you _were_ enjoying yourself."

"I _am_ enjoying myself, you're a good host."

There was something bittersweet in her tone, like she was coming down from her high whether she liked it or not. "Why don't you tell Paul it's not working?"  
"'Cause when you beat a dead horse all you get is horsemeat. And headaches. And divorce."

"Okay."

"And to top it all off, he _really_ wants to meet you."

"Me? Why?"

"'Cause it's _affecting our son_."

John suppressed the next curse word on his tongue. "I don't know how he lives like that."  
"Under a veil of blissful denial. Just like our marriage." She explained, instantly feeling she had given too much away. "Let's get back to prepping for tonight. You were saying something."  
"You don't have to come if you're busy with-."

"Taylor's coming home tomorrow, we'll talk then. And I want to."

"Okay, it's a black tie dinner and Finch had a plan."

"A plan? How long before you and Shaw take it apart piece-by-piece?" She joked, hoping to take his mind off her.

"I think she'll be more co-operative than usual." He cleared his throat. "Finch had an idea..for you to go together."


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: It's been a crazy week and for some reason I got really stuck...Oh Shaw, what do you do to me?_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 26th April 2014, 1.32pm, "Highlights" Salon de Beauté, Brooklyn_

" _Mmmmmmmmmmm._ " All that was missing from Janelle's inspection of her hair was a clipboard and a scoresheet. Her role as Evelyn's informant was no secret, it was an necessary evil that Joss accepted in exchange for her coconut hair mask, inflation-free prices and scalp massages. "You know if you're gonna keep seeing this _man_ , we're gonna have to work something out; a steam treatment for starters 'cause your hair can't take all this heat. And it seems neither can you by the way you walked in all crooked."

Joss rolled her eyes at her prying but as she didn't have a confidante and they were in the backroom alone, she humoured her and gave just enough bait to lead Evelyn in the wrong direction. "We're going out tonight."

"Yeah, where?"

"A play in Central Park."

"And what's his name?"

"Sam."

 _6.42pm, Joss' apartment_

 _Janelle Monae's at my front door_ was her first thought when Shaw showed up on her doorstep in a slim leg tuxedo with a cream Bentley to boot. The luxury getaway car wasn't the only surprise, insistent upon driving it, Shaw played Alanis Morissette on a loop and refused to change the music as it helped her think. Joss would've loved to know what went through the mind of a woman who had a pepper spray keyring.

"I don't mean to be a stickler, but _try_ to smile tonight." Joss advised, finger-combing the loose strands of her doughnut bun in the sun visor mirror.

"Like this?" Shaw stopped at the red light and flashed Joss a teeth-bearing, eye-bulging smile like the stuff psychopathic, homocidal mugshots were made of.

"Pretend it's for the Smith & Wesson Appreciation Society." Shaw broke into a more socially-acceptable borderline-menacing smile. " _Much_ better."

"So you heard Finch thinks I need some B.S.-plastic-Barbie-ballerina lessons?"

Joss believed in the success of Shaw taking etiquette lessons as much as she believed two dogs could make a kitten. "I heard."

She drove one-handedly and reached for her clutch bag on the backseat. "I told him I'd wear a suit but I draw the line at _Table Manners for Dummies_. You'd think I eat like an animal or something." She chewed on a strawberry cable from the bag and pulled out her weapon. "Gun check. Nano."

"I can't show you mine in this dress." Shaw's imagination ran free about what was under the full length coat and she had much higher hopes of enjoying their evening together. "You got the tickets?"

She threw the clutch bag in her lap. "In the bag."

Joss read aloud. "Mrs and Mrs Josephine and Samantha Stephens. I can't believe Finch registered us as a couple." She read the offence on Shaw's face. "I mean I love Ellen and Portia and Elton and whoever that guy is, but really Finch?"

"They're the last tickets, it was the only way to get us seated together." Shaw explained.

"Well, as hard as it is to get a date in this city, I'm glad it's you."

"Yeah." She looked from side to side; she was on the edge of feeling something. "You know when Finch said date night on Saturday, I never thought he meant playing _Cluedo_ in a six bed mansion."

"Me neither."

"This is _way_ better."

Joss laughed to herself, it was warm, inviting, a tease. "You know, one thing I've learnt is men in New York don't want a superhero, just a woman who'll dress up like one from time to time."

Shaw was fascinated but masked it with a off-key interpretation along with the radio. "I've got one hand in my pocket and the other one's pulling the _triggerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr_."

 _7.13pm, Chatsworth House, 5th Avenue, New York_

Fusco folded the legs of the second security guard into the cupboard and locked the door. Drugging their caffeine-free coffee with just enough crushed sleeping pills did the trick and he and Fusco set up their enhanced surveillance in the security room.

"You know this used to be a powder room." Finch stated, as though it was something everyone know.

"How'd you figure that?" Fusco asked, looking up at the spotlights on the high ceiling. He didn't want to be there, but he had nowhere else to go; resigned to another Saturday night with the Team because his love life was as dry as desert sand.

"From the sink, although it's clear they shut off the water supply. I have an appreciation for original architecture."

"You're just a barrel of laughs, huh Finch?"

"I like to think of myself as a traditionalist, Lionel."

"Oh yeah? Then why are Scary and Sporty Spice playing lady lovers tonight?" Upon further inspection of the cloakroom camera feed, and Joss taking off her coat to reveal a red evening gown with a borderline-appropriate split, he corrected himself. "I mean Posh and Sporty Spice."

"I don't think they'd appreciate that. And with Mr Reese in a less glamorous role tonight; I think they'll make a _productive_ team."

 _7.27pm, Chatsworth House, 5th Avenue, New York_

Finch's argument for Shaw became clearer when Shaw flagged down the nearest waiter and, not content with four snapper crudos, refused to loosen her grip on the tray of _hors d'oeuvres_ until he surrendered. Edgar and Verity Bishop, a rich octogenarian couple

they were seated next to, were compelled with Shaw's idiosyncrasies and found her more entertaining than the swing band playing Gershwin songs. Joss wasn't interested in policing her actions; besides scanning the room for potential threats she wished she could be that carefree or, as Fusco described it, have a 'few chips missing'.

"So how long have you been together?" Verity asked, blinking politely as Shaw ate her way to the centre of the tray.  
"Two years." Joss replied, quickly.  
"It's been a riot." They lapped up Shaw's dry humour.  
"How did you meet?"  
They locked eyes and Joss silently begged her not to say anything involving body bags, fake deaths and stretchers. "At a wet T-shirt contest."  
Shaw's casual sipping of her gin was met with hearty laughter. "That is just...precious."

Afraid of what she might say next Joss looked for an out. "Let's dance."

There were no clever quips to be said when Joss took her hand and the band started to play _Someone to watch over me_. She smelt like roses and although Shaw was stepping on her dress, she still let her rest her head on her shoulder. From there Shaw had a decent view of Phinneas Montgomery having a disagreement with his lawyer. "Drama at 10 o'clock." She said softly, and Joss turned her by pressing on her lower back. For some reason, Shaw was extra-sensitive to her touch and when she saw the death glare from the man at the bar she was gleeful.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: So I'm going through a lot of changes right now but there's nothing better that almost writing Careese than writing Careese._ **Opheliablack** _'s back too!  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 26th April 2014,_ _7.31pm, Chatsworth House, 5th Avenue, New York_

Shaw hadn't figured out whether she was happier that she was dancing with Joss or that she was making John jealous. "Can you make out what he's saying?" Shaw asked, still stepping on Joss' dress. She was able to hide her two left feet as her scowl was usually enough to keep men from asking her to dance. Not that Joss cared about her dancing, she was lip-reading Phinneas' conversation with his lawyer as Shaw blew an antagonising kiss at John in his bow-tie uniform at the bar.

"He can't make the speech, that's what he's saying; _don't give the speech, there's a complication_."

"You know I left my clutch bag on the table."

"You gotta stop solving every problem with that thing."

"Yeah. Sure. Whatever."

Joss gazed into her eyes, she had never agreed to give up her gun so easily. She'd never appeared so happy either. "He's watching us, huh?"

Out came the murderous smirk again. "Yep. He looks like Bear when he's all out of steak. I call it _Kibble-face_."

"You shouldn't tease him like that."

"Why not?"

 _7.46pm, Gutbusters Diner, Philadelphia_

Taylor pushed his food around his plate, no amount of 'Fun-dad' activities could get him out of his funk and Paul was running out of ideas fast. In his eyes, Taylor had the moodiness of his mother; he processed all of his feelings inwards first then decided if, how and when to talk about it. Paul had over 40 years of denying, minimising and ignoring uncomfortable things and the impossible habit to break was the reason he did all his talking with his counsellor. He made another attempt. "It's not too late to get tickets for the game tonight at Temple. I can call the box office."

"No, it's okay." Even though his own team sucked by their own admission, he still preferred soccer over football.

"Do you know I played at Milton?"

He nodded and slurped his strawberry milkshake. "Linebacker. Ma said you were pretty good."

"Four great years. Roanoke seemed a million miles away from Norfolk back then, when it's just a long drive. I could show you this summer, when's the last time you went to Virginia?"

"I don't remember."

"You must've been about four. It's different now. So what'd you say?"

He raised his eyebrows. "A road trip? Sounds good."

"You sure you don't wanna spend the night? They do the best breakfast at this spot called _Breffasts_ , get it? 'Cause of their accents. Tay?"

"Can't. There's my film review."

"Can it wait?"

"It's in French, Dad."

"Right. So what are your friends doing tonight?"

"Everyone's going to C.J.'s party."

"You should've told me. You could've gone."

"It's okay." He sighed, he knew his dad was trying but his misdirected energy was getting on his nerves.

"Did something happen that I don't know about?" Paul asked.

Taylor looked away. "Like what?"

"I don't know, Tay, help me out here. It's this John guy, I know that much. 'Cause you've been different since he's been around. Did he say something?"

"Dad."

"Just tell me. I won't get mad."

"He loves her. He loves her, okay? He said he loves her. _That's_ what he said."

 _8.04pm, Chatsworth House, 5th Avenue, New York_

It was odd to think the room they were standing in used to be a bedroom 100 years ago. Now it was an out-of-use office they were putting to good use. Joss tried not to sound like a princess when telling Shaw to stop literally twisting Ray Elliott's arm for an explanation of what the complication was. In her dress, Phinneas' lawyer refused to believe she was a cop. Instead he took the woman in the tux at her word that she would break it if he kept honouring attorney-client privilege.

"Come on Ray," She coaxed, adding more pressure. "What's the complication? Inquiring minds wanna know."

Joss was caught between telling her that use of force was an ineffective way of gaining intel for the fourth time again, and watching how this thing would play out. As Ray's face grew redder, it seemed it was getting somewhere. "H-h-his s-s-s-speech."

"Let go, Sam." Joss advised, Shaw only conceded because of the clock ticking above their heads. They had 10 minutes before Phinneas was due to start so I was just a matter of time before someone came looking for him.

Ray stretched his left arm as far as it could go and groaned. "At least it's not broken. Talk to us, Ray. Why don't you want him to give his speech tonight?"

"It's the Montauk land reclamation project. He's going to make a statement against it tonight and he can't."

"Why not?" Joss asked, as Shaw chewed on another strawberry cable.

"Because it's worth 12 million dollars."

"To who?"

"A foreign investor."

"Does this foreign investor have a name?"

"No, just the names and addresses of Mr Montgomery and his family. And before you ask why I didn't go to the police I only got the call this-"

"Morning." Joss finished his sentence. "Around 11?"

"10. And how did you know?"

She ignored his question. "What can you tell us about the call?"

 _8.31pm, I-95_

It was Paul's turn to be silent, as the album Taylor had grown to hate to with a passion had played all the way to its 12th track. He had no desire to know why _some seek stardom and forget about Harlem_ , or what that meant, or why anyone ever cared. He didn't know why he told him when he promised he would let John tell his mom on his own time. But it could be undone and that just sucked.

"You said you wouldn't get mad."

Paul turned the music down. "I'm _not_." He dialled down the harshness in his voice. "I'm not. I'm happy for her."

Taylor didn't know whether to believe him or not. "Really?"

"Just because she's not my wife, it doesn't mean I don't want her to be happy." Paul replied, because it was the right thing to say. It was also half a lie, he didn't want her to be unhappy but he didn't want her to exponentially happier with someone else when he's wasn't. More so, John was no longer a guy in the shadows, hanging around; he was here to stay and that was a threatening, and unpleasant, thought.

 _11.46pm, Joss' apartment_

John followed the Bentley to her home while Finch and Fusco set-up the wire tap at Ray's home for the next phone call. Against his advice, Phinneas delivered his original speech so they waited for the fall-out. Shaw was looking forward to dusting off her suit for whatever combat the night may bring because she knew she wasn't going to get what she really wanted that night. John and his kibble-face had shown up and there was no hope. She watched the lady in red walk up the stairs on her balls of her swollen feet.

Joss kicked off her shoes, threw her coat on the sofa and checked her phone for messages. Just one.

\- _I just remembered how much I like the colour red._


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: I love writing chapters with just the two of them, but it's also the most difficult to write - for me anyway._ _  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 26th April 2014, 11.54pm, Joss' apartment_

If they were normal people, John would've followed her up the stairs to her apartment and made better use of her kitchen counter or _island_ as she called it. Then maybe he would've carried her upstairs and torn her red dress to shreds. But they weren't normal people. They were part of the Team trying to locate a pissed-off foreign investor before they made good on their threat. And he shouldn't have been there; entertaining the thought of staying. But he was.

 _\- There's a strange man outside my house. Either he's coming in or I'm going to sleep._

 _\- And I'm sleepy._

 _\- Real sleepy._

 _\- Goodnight John._

That was all the invitation he needed. A few wraps on her window later she let him in from her fire escape. "I liked you better with the bow tie." She joked. "How'd you end up on the bar?"

"They drew straws without me." Her bedroom was just as simple as before but she lit it up with her attire.

"I know you can't stay long, they need you." She stated simply, fluffing her pillows.

Looking at her, he couldn't believe her dress and her dance was wasted on Shaw. Because of its length, she appeared to be floating around the room barefoot, saying things he couldn't make out because he simply wanted to look at her. It was the little things, the simple things. She took her hair out of the bun on top of her head and tucked the spongy doughnut in a drawer. "...Bark or bite?" She asked.

"What?"

She finger-combed her hair and put it into a thick braid. "The property investor. You think he's all bark or bite? I mean coming after a philanthropist _is_ pretty bold."

He smiled because she still couldn't turn it off. "I didn't come here for that. Let's talk about something else, for the next...fifteen minutes."

"Okay." They stood in silence, whenever he looked at her that way she didn't know what to say. She couldn't describe how it made her feel to be admired and lusted after in the same glance, to be noticed. Because he never just checked her out, he watched her, studied her, as though he was taking in every inch of her with his eyes to feast on his thoughts later.

"Let me help you out of your dress."

She rolled her eyes, _of course that's what he came for._ Not that she wouldn't take him up on his offer, if there was an offer. Or maybe not. The problem with ending a sex drought was the unleashing of her inner sex fiend that was looking for its next fix. _Common sense be damned._ "The zip starts here." She lifted her arm, and he pulled it past her waist, down to her hip. "Lift it."

"Over your head?" He asked, knowing only Joss would make sure it didn't touch the floor any more than it had to.

She giggled. "Yes, over my head. And watch my hair."

"Why?"

"Hair plus zip equals Dead John."

"Got it." He liked her when she was relaxed, threatening him with something she'd never do. For some reason, it made him feel at home. "That was some dance, tonight."

Her muffled voice came through the layers as the dress went over her head. "You could've found me a better dance partner."

"It was short notice." He replied.

She rubbed the goosebumps off her cold arms, he was watching again and she was relieved she was matching. He couldn't take his eyes off her battle scar, and that was something she was used to. It was an imperfection that most men couldn't come to terms with, as though her toned body was marred with it. But he didn't see it that way. It was a stamp of everlasting badassness that couldn't be unwritten from her skin.

"I'm _really_ tired, John."

"I know." He checked his watch. "So I'm gonna hold you 'til you fall asleep, or until Finch calls. Whichever comes first."


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: I'd planned to write the rest of **DreadWomen** 's prompt re: John and Paul's first meeting next chapter._ _  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Sunday, 27th April 2014, 7.50am, Burn Astoria Gym, Astoria, Queens_

Ever since Taylor told him what he feared, that John loved her, the thought of another man being a permanent fixture in their lives was driving him crazy. Ever since Taylor was allowed to move back home they had reached a happy medium, with him living between the two homes as and when he wanted to. _And that's how it should stay_. Talking to Susan about it put him more on edge so the only thing keeping him together was the early morning Boot Camp class at the gym. Monique left him flat out every time, he was too tired to think afterwards and that's what he needed to make it through the day.

"You know that makes it five days in a row." She told him afterwards.

He wiped the sweat from his brow. "Who's counting?"

 _4.09pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst_

Guilt was a powerful emotion. Taylor kicked himself for breaking his word so soon. If his dad hadn't badgered him...no, that wasn't it. He wanted him to know what John admitted to, how real it was, so someone could share in whatever that meant; that their norm had been disturbed, that things were changing, that it was possible for his mom to let a man inside instead of keeping him at arm's length. But Paul's response confused him more, the silence, denial and angry calisthenics. Was it possible both to want and not want someone to be happy at the same time?

A red dress he'd never seen before was draped over the chair in the living room and he could hear the vacuum going upstairs. She looked different, skipping down the stairs on the balls of her feet with her bunny slippers on.

"Hey Tay." Her voice was light, lighter. He wondered if John had said it yet. "You guys got everything ready for your party?"

"Yeah." He looked down at the dress again. "Did you go somewhere nice?"

She laughed, trying to tell as much of the truth as she could. "Yeah. Sam had a spare ticket. So, when Grandma asks you about her, just know she's my friend."

" _She_?"

"Yeah. She's a Navy doctor on a...career break."

He was confused. "O...kay. So you didn't go out with John?"

"No." He didn't know whether to be happy or not. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." He lied.

"How was Philly?"

"It was okay, I guess. I said something I shouldn't have."

She looked him up and down. "To Dad." He nodded. "Tay, I can't keep getting in between you guys. Give it some time, then apologise."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"'Cause it was about you."

"What'd you say about me?"

"I can't tell you. I'm sorry, it just slipped out."

"Is it something I should know?"

"Yeah, but I shouldn't have said it. John should've said it. And now Dad's acting weird."

"Tell me what happened."

"I can't, just tell him I'm sorry."

"Dad?"

"John."

"Okay, this _is_ getting weird. Tay, if you're having problems with me being with John, just tell me."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"Then why are you telling Dad things about us you're gonna apologise for later?"

"I don't know."

She sighed. "Just talk to me."

He shook his head.

 _Friday, 2nd May 2014, 6:15pm, Evelyn's condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

As his grandmother was the only person in his life who was there for all of his birthdays, Evelyn insisted upon hosting his birthday dinner. But it was obvious there was more to it than that.

"Why are you setting the table for six?" Gregory asked, counting the table settings.

"Just in case she changes her mind and brings Sam along."

He shook his head, ever since Janelle snitched she had been excited about the new guy in Joss' life. In his opinion, _too_ excited. "I thought Joss was more private than that."

"That's because Paul acts a tall teenager and so she thinks she can't have any fun. Well she can." She brushed some lint off of her tablecloth. "There, perfect."

"A tall teenager?" He repeated.

"Yes. Just like when they were married."

"It can't have been all bad. There was love there once."

"There's love, and there's parenting."

"Be nice, Ev."

She smiled sweetly. "I'm always nice."

 _6:23pm, 8th Precinct_

Joss was running late to the birthday dinner due to a murder caused by mistaken identity in Prospect Park West. After he lost two out of three coin tosses, Fusco agreed to join Shaw on her Friday-night escapades that was one part bar crawl and two parts tailing Montgomery. Her car smelt like the man she hadn't heard from in days; usually it wouldn't have bothered her when he went off the grid for a while but after they spent the night together – or however much of the night they spent together before she fell asleep with her mouth open – she missed his presence. She felt around in her glove compartment for the burner phone.

"Is there a reason why you were in my car today?"

"Just doing what I do."

"Where are you, John?"

"Taking care of something. Tell Taylor, happy birthday."

"I will. He said, he's sorry. Do you know what that's about?"

"No."


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: This is for **SWWoman** and **stlouiegal**._ _  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday, 2nd May 2014, 6:59pm, Evelyn's condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

Paul enjoyed having dinner at Evelyn's as much as he enjoyed having his teeth pulled. His ex-mother-in-law was a fantastic cook but that didn't take the sting out of how she served every plate with a considered gripe on the side. And she probably wasn't going to hold back because it was Taylor's 17th birthday, all it would take was the second glass of wine for her to unleash her tongue. That was why he took his sweet time getting there only to find Joss struggling at the elevator with a fistful of helium balloons, a cake box and a gift bag.

"You need help?" He asked the obvious, relieved he wasn't the last to arrive.

"Sure. Take the balloons." She smiled and he couldn't help but notice she was happier than usual. Much happier. "I know Mom's not your favourite person so thanks for coming."

He took another look at her face. She was glowing. _She's having sex_. "Anytime." He replied.

She raised both eyebrows, not buying it. "Really?"

He cleared his throat. "No." She laughed as the doors closed. "But it's for Taylor so..."

She noticed he was squinting his eyes, they weren't married long enough for her to know what that particular gesture meant; _she's having sex_. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." _She's having sex with a man who he loves her_. He looked at the silver-grey walls and felt sick, like they were closing in on them.

"You sure?"

"I'm fine." He tried to breathe like he had learnt to years ago in some VA relaxation class that he thought was useless until now. Trying to control his thoughts, he told her his plans. "I want to take Taylor to Virginia this summer, he's really excited."

"Sounds good to me." The elevator jolted and she dropped the gift bag. "He's always wanted to do something like that with you."

"Yeah, well no time like the present." The elevator jolted again and stopped.

"I didn't mean it like that, Paul." She attributed his tension to his general dislike of small spaces. "I meant he's looking forward to it."

A few drawn-out breaths and a sigh later he responded. "I know. Look Joss, I think everything's good between me and my son and I want it to stay that way."

"Why wouldn't it? No one's trying to come between you two."

"Really?"

"Yes really." It was hard to take him seriously with the bunch of balloons he was holding onto.

"Then why is John talking to my son, messing with his head?"

"John is not messing with his head."

"He hasn't been the same since."

"He wanted to talk so they would be on the same page."

"The same page?"

"Yes. Maybe you could do that the next time you bring someone new into his life." She shook her head as he pressed the alarm button repeatedly, they both knew it wouldn't work.

"So he told my son he loves you to be on the same page?"

Her silence was worse than any comeback, because it was loaded. He knew it wasn't a guilty silence, it was a stunned one. _She doesn't know. She didn't know. Now she does. Oh sh..._ "I'm sorry Joss. I thought you knew."

She exhaled and felt a headache coming on that she hadn't felt in a long time, since they were married. She told herself she was okay, and stronger than this, that he couldn't hurt her anymore. But it wasn't working. Because it did hurt. It hurt like he'd stolen something from her; something she wanted to discover on her own, something that was just for her and John, whenever he felt open enough to tell her. Those three words should've come from John's mouth but they didn't. And that sucked.

"I'm sorry." He repeated but she didn't care to hear it. She wondered how it came up in the first place. It explained why Taylor was freaked out, understandably, but part of her knew he needed to hear it, maybe not as soon, but he needed to know someone could love her without their lives falling apart in the process.

"Joss?" He called her name. Whenever she faded away to that faraway place he knew the outcome was going to be bad. Joss wasn't the kind of woman to yell and hurl insults at the top of her voice, she was a woman of action; causing more pain with her decisions than she ever could with mere words.

She tried to snap out of her feelings, remembering it was their son's birthday and whenever they got out of the elevator – and she prayed that was soon – they would still have to spend the evening together. "You got enough chaperones for Saturday?" She asked, not looking at him but the balloons instead. When she thought about it, Taylor was too old for them but unsealing them and playing helium charades was a corny tradition she wasn't ready to let go of yet.

Paul wasn't surprised but her diversion tactic; it would be easier if she ripped onto him but that wasn't her style. They didn't fight like normal divorced couples, when she was upset she usually cut off from him until she was ready to talk again. However long that took. So she wasn't being Joss, she was being Taylor's mom. And that got on his nerves; that they could never finish a discussion without her switching modes from adult to parent when she felt she was losing control. "Teddy and Chris are coming. And Drew of course 'cause Junior's the D.J. They've got this room in the back and so we'll be out of their way."

She nodded, still reeling. "Can you check on them every hour? If they think you're gone it'll be-"

"Crazy. Got it."

The lights in the elevator blinked and she prayed it was a sign they'd be on the move soon. " _And_ he has a crush on a girl called Farrah who doesn't know he exists, or doesn't care, and is probably bringing a date."

He made a mental note not to mention her name. "Anything else?"

"I told him that even though he and Lydia are just friends, he should still pick her up and make sure she gets home safe 'cause he invited her to go with him."

"Okay."

"Great. Sounds like you're all set."

"Joss,"

"Please don't. I know you're sorry." The elevator was on the move again. "I got him a car."

"What the-?"

"He'll get it in the summer. We're even."


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: The cogs are turning - Paul and John's meeting is inevitable, the issue is writing in. Bear with me._ _  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday, 2nd May 2014, 7:21pm, Evelyn's condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

They weren't even and Paul knew it. He was still stunned that she bought Taylor a car without saying anything or including him or at least letting him check under the hood. Not that she was in the mood to talk about makes and models. Before he knew it they were on Evelyn's turf, sitting at the dining table with Josiah's proud portrait on the wall; watching over them. He noticed the 6th place setting right away, as did Joss, and it was just the beginning of their awkward evening together.

"Ma, are you expecting someone?" Joss asked, thinking a guest was the last thing they needed. Paul wanted to know too; with both of his parents and his only brother gone, it wouldn't be someone from his side of the family.

"Well, I was hoping you'd surprise me but I guess not." She sounded genuinely disappointed.

Gregory apologised with his eyes as if to say _I tried to stop her_. "Nope, no surprises from me. Just cake."

Taylor's eyes lit up, matching the black and white circle print shirt, that made her feel dizzier the longer she stared at it. "From O & B's?"

"Of course. Chocolate fudge, your favourite." Evelyn cleared her throat. "I meant favourite from a store. It's nothing like yours."

"Well, mine is baked with love." Evelyn felt vindicated for the moment but she couldn't ignore the tension. Between Paul's aloofness and the forced smile Joss was wearing she knew something was wrong, and was determined to find out what it was. " I was thinking of sending a search party for you two."

"The elevator's on the fritz again."

"I told Charlotte, someone should be coming tomorrow. Long time no see, Paul." Evelyn greeted, to get his attention.

"Evelyn. Good to see you too."

"Is it?" They both knew it wasn't true. Tolerable? Maybe. Good? Not really.

"Evs," Gregory's warm voice said _be nice_.

"What?" She batted her eyelids. "It's been a while since we've seen each other. We're catching up. Seeing as Paul _never_ comes to church with us, this is my only chance to see him."

"God...is everywhere. _Grace_." He held a spoonful of shrimp kedgeree in his mouth until it turned to mush.

She shook her head. "Let's hold hands." He knew her well enough to know it wasn't a suggestion. "Lord, we give thanks for Taylor's 17th birthday. Be his light, give him understanding and compassion," She stared at Joss, who had gulped down a glass of wine in record time, "wisdom and good judgement," her eyes lingered longer on Paul to the point where she was silent for a while. "And give him the ability to accept that change is inevitable and can make life even better than before. _Much_ better. We ask this in Your name, Amen."

Paul felt like she'd just hit him with her pocketbook.

"Amen."

 _8:02pm, Evelyn's condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

If Taylor thought there was something going on between his parents, all thoughts of it left his mind when he saw his birthday check and concert tickets. Joss' mind was on overdrive and the third glass of wine hadn't helped her relax either.

"What's going on with you two?" Evelyn asked, stopping her from pouring a fourth glass.

"Nothing." She could hear the sounds of a video game from kitchen.

"Well if you smile any harder, you'll break your jaw."

She stopped doing it and massaged her sore cheeks. "That bad?"

"What happened? Is this about Sam?"

"No."

"Must be. He's always has a jealous streak."

"Sam's my girlfriend, Ma." Joss explained. "Like Toni-Maya-Joan girlfriend, so no that's not it."

"Then who is he?"

"John."

"Does John have a last name?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." Joss smiled, pretending to be joking. The truth was she wasn't any closer to knowing John's real surname and she'd given up looking. That was something she could wait for, like finding out his true feelings for her, even though she already had her answer.

"So?" She prodded.

"So what?"

"What's he like? Does Taylor like him?"

"He's a good man, and Taylor knows it first hand. Although,"

"It's hard for him, you know. Not having a man at home. It'll take some getting used to."

"I know. They talked, I thought it would help but now I'm not so sure."

"You know it takes a stand-up guy to talk to your son like that. It's gotta feel good, right? I like him already."

"You don't know him."

"That's because _someone's_ keeping him out of sight. But take your time. I'll wait."

"You'll wait. Who are you and what've you done with my mom?" She realised why she was so excited. "Taylor told you too?"

"You've got to tell him his poker face is terrible."

"I can't. It's been good to me all these years."

"But anyway, it's a wonderful thing. Love is a gift."

"I know."

"No you don't." Joss had no choice but to listen so instead of protesting, she picked some grapes off a stem instead. _Here we go._ "Men are incapable of unconditional love because they don't have to give their bodies and even their lives to their children. _We_ do that. Sometimes we're blessed to do it more than once. But anyway, Paul is a mess and the love he had to give was limited. I tried to tell you that but you young girls..."

The intoxicating wave of coconut and vanilla hit her nostrils, making it much easier to take in what she was hearing.

"You were trying to make him whole, so he could give the love you needed. That's what you think love is, and it's not. Love just _is_. And it's _as is_ not _if and when_ or _to be_. So, if you think it's an _as is_ kinda love I say take it, and don't let Paul spoil it 'cause he's out here chasing twenty-something pop tarts for kicks."

Joss managed a smile that felt a lot less plastic. Evelyn had a way of spurring her on in unexpected ways. If an _as-is_ love was what John had to offer, it had to be better than anything she'd had before as evidenced by the fact the man she married was playing _World of Warcraft_ in the living room without a care in the world. She was determined not to let him ruin her Friday night because, as usual, he was thinking about himself. The truth was, somewhere in New York City, a man named John loved her and that couldn't be denied or tainted. So she decided to give him was she was deprived of; time to tell her on his own terms.

 _10:16pm, Evelyn's condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

A cake slice too many and Joss was ready to leave. She brushed off Paul's attempts to smooth things over with so much calm he was suspicious. It wasn't chivalry that made him follow her outside; it was curiosity.

"What do you want from me, Paul?" She asked, unlocking her car.

"I just wanted to say-"

"You're sorry. Yeah I heard that. It doesn't change anything but okay."

"I wanna meet him."

She called his bluff. "Fine."

"Fine? You're serious?" He asked, not sure if that was really the answer he wanted. "When?"

"He's got a habit of showing up at _just_ the right time."


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: For_ **DreadWomen** _who's epic prompt about where the one-word greetings between John and Paul came from kept me going for a number of chapters._ _  
_

 _To everyone, sorry the writing's been scarce of late, I quit my job and became self-employed recently (so happy!) so I've been all over the place._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday, 3rd May 2014, 11:51pm, Orange Movie Theater, Forest Hills, Queens_

Joss couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a movie outside the comfort of her house. Not that it was worth watching; it was just a disposable romantic comedy she forgot most of as soon as it was over. Her shoes stuck to the floor with spilled soda as she walked out, cursing the mass of chocolate-covered snacks she'd put away in under two hours. Luckily she'd unbuttoned her jeans and covered her food baby with an old sweatshirt. Unluckily for her, John was waiting in her car.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, getting into the passenger's seat. He had the nerve to tune the radio to a classic rock station but luckily she liked _November Rain_ because of the wedding dress in the music video.

"Would you believe me if I said I was in the neighbourhood?" He smirked, turning up the volume and the heating at the same time.

"No. So what do you need tonight? A ride? An extra pair of eyes? Back-up?"

"Nope. One acid attack averted and Fusco got a lead on the guy who made the phone threats to Montgomery's lawyer. So...drink?"

She smiled. "Is this the point where I ask ' _my place or yours_ '?"

"Not unless you want the answer. But you did say, ' _let me invite you_ '. So Joss, invite me." She bit her top lip and started the engine. He smiled with smug self-satisfaction. "What are you doing in Queens?"

She sighed, embarrassed in part to say it out loud. "Taylor's party's four blocks away."

"And you just _had_ to stay nearby?"

"I'm trying _really_ hard not to be one of those moms." She explained. "But I can't help it. So I thought I'd stick around just in case he needed me."

"And?"

"And he doesn't. So it's a good thing you showed up."

"Because?"

"Because I need a favor."

 _Two weeks later, Saturday, 17_ _th_ _May 2014, 11.47am, Joss' apartment_

Even since Paul let it slip that he had a car coming his way, Taylor had been on a high that no thoughts could bring him down from...until Joss told him about the meeting happening across town. There had been enough distractions in his life to stop him from thinking about his mom's new relationship or his dad's reaction to it, like the birthday party that boosted his social stock and the soccer game his team won on a technicality that week. Her news brought his feelings back to the surface; feelings he didn't fully understand. On one hand, he was happy for her because she seemed different; like she had always something to look forward to. On the other hand, he trusted her to be the constant in his life, to remain the same, and she wasn't doing that; she had disturbed their norm.

"Tay, say something." She nudged him, turning down the _Fresh Prince_ rerun on their lazy Saturday morning.

" _Today?_ They're meeting today?" He was more anxious about what would happen when they came face-to-face than he was shocked that his dad hadn't told him about it.

"Yeah. So tell me how you feel about it 'cause we both know what happens when you don't." He could tell from her tone that she was still upset about what she knew and even though she accepted his apology, she definitely wasn't over it.

"It's still weird, you know?"

"I know."

"John's nice, I guess, but he's really intense."

"He's got a lot going on in his life."

"That not what I mean."

"How? You mean about me?" He nodded. She was flattered that even he had noticed. "People can't change how they feel about each other. Trust me, life would be much easier if love had an on-and-off switch."

"I don't get it."

She smiled at his inexperience. "I don't expect you to... _p-k-k-Phoenix_."

 _12.07pm, Mermaid Café, New York_

Paul fixed his eyes on each man to come through the door seeing as John was late. When he asked Taylor what he looked liked the only description he could come up with was _badass,_ as though that was an identikit. The next man through the door was black, 5'8", 5'9" at best. His pointed goatee was peppered with white hairs and he sat across from a woman with ombre hair.

 _Can't be him._

The local newspaper he was reading had an article about high school students abusing caffeine pills and he almost missed the man in the suit until he heard a dog bark. Years ago the barking of a Belgian Malinois would have sent him spinning in the vortex of his memories and transported him overseas in a military uniform that was so tight he could barely breathe. Today, it was just a dog that made him question how sanitary the café was. _What is it with white people and their dogs?_ He thought as the dog owner greeted the waitress and said something that made her giggle and play with her hair. To his surprise John then he turned his head and smiled at him as if to say _Game on_.

 _He's white._

That was more puzzling than the fact he was packing a gun, but didn't look at all like a cop. He noticed John didn't shake his hand which was a relief in hindsight because as soon as the waitress brought a plate of bacon, he dropped two streaks on the floor for Bear to eat.

They sat and stared at each other for a moment; sizing each other up. Paul was bigger, more muscular, but John a few inches taller. From where the waitress was standing it looked like an intense blind date.

 _...So he's white..._

 _...So this is the man she married and divorced, and he's still standing..._

 _...So...he's really...white..._

 _...So this is the man she gave her twenties and a son to...who disappeared off the grid for two years where even Finch can't find him..._

… _So this is the guy she's been getting defensive about. The one Taylor calls badass but can't explain why..._

John stated the obvious and the not-so-obvious. "You must be Paul, this is Bear."

"So you're John." He sipped his coffee because he didn't know what else to do.

"So...d'you wanna talk about Taylor or Joss?" John asked, knowing which name was being substituted for the other.

"Taylor."

 _Yeah right, asshole._ "He's a great kid." _Thanks to his mom._

"Yeah he is." _And he's mine: mine, mine, mine._ "He said he's known you for a couple years."

"He has."

"How?"

John's relationship with the truth ranged from little white lies to threats to national security. This one fell in the realm of lying by omission. "Through Joss." He replied.

"Yeah, but how? I mean, you're not a cop, but you got enough juice to get into a private hospital when you're not family."

John was pleasantly surprised hat someone who acted the way he did wasn't so stupid after all. If he didn't know already, and he was 99% sure he didn't, he wasn't going to tell him his son was kidnapped by Scarface for Elias. "We've been friends for a long time."

He nodded. _B.S. She never mentioned you._ "Where are you from?"

"Washington."

"D.C.?"

"State."

His phone vibrated and flashed. It was Shaw. "You got somewhere to be?"

"Just business. Let's talk about Joss."

"What about her?"

"She's got a lot on her shoulders."

"She's a cop, a mom..." He laughed at her unfortunate fate. "And Evelyn's daughter."

"That's not all she is."

"I don't know what you think you know about us but I'm not here for Joss."

"I know. You're here for _you_. 'Cause if you wanted her, you'd have got her back by now. But you haven't and she's right where you left her; where you want her to stay."

"You don't know jack."

"I know she deserves to be happier than she is right now; than she's ever been."

They sat in silence as the air turned stale. John's phone vibrated again. "You gonna get that?"

"I have to." He rubbed Bear's head. "Good seeing you, Paul." _Asshole._

"John." _Jackass._


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: I laughed SO hard with the reviews last chapter, some of you think they'll be a fallout to their meeting. Hmmm. *Sips tea*  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday, 17_ _th_ _May 2014, 8.40pm, Joss' apartment_

Smug was the word Paul felt best described John's demeanour. From his smug smile to the way this jackass strutted around with his freaking wolf-dog, he was sure there was something more to it than the gun he was carrying or the woman he was bedding. And speaking of Joss, the secrecy surrounding how John met Taylor was driving him crazy. So much so that he was at her door on a Saturday night looking for answers.

Slow-cooked sirloin steak, sweet potatoes and cavolo nero with homemade mushroom peppercorn steak sauce. She had to admit that his buttery steak was better than she expected but the dinner she promised, in exchange for meeting with Paul, had to be better. That, and she liked to watch him eat. Paul knew she was expecting company she came to the front door sweating; her neck was practically glistening and her hair was being held up by a butterfly clasp. She was visibly disappointed to see him. "Paul." Her tone said it too.

She reluctantly invited him in because experience had taught her to nip his issues in the bud for the sake of their son. Onions, mushrooms, beef, each scent taunted him as they intensified on the way to the kitchen. In the moment, he realised it had been a long time since he had a woman in his life who could cook for him. He once dated a pastry chef but petit fours and beignets couldn't take the place of a home-cooked meal. Joss had a dish towel tucked into her waist like he'd seen Evelyn do a thousand times before she threw down in the kitchen.

"What's up? You got what you wanted, right?" She asked as he slide onto Taylor's seat at the island.

"Joss, I'm not here to fight."

She pulled a tray of roast root vegetables out of the oven, the smell of rosemary hit him and took him back to Thanksgiving in an instant. "Glad to hear it." She shoved it back in, they still weren't done.

"So what are you doing with Taylor's car?"

"The owner's keeping it 'til July."

"I told him I'd help him get his license."

"Mmm-hmm, he said. Good luck to both of you. _And_ your car." She smiled and popped the cork on a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

He couldn't help but notice that she was going all out for this guy. It made him wonder what he'd done to deserve it. "Is there something you're not telling me about John?"

She sighed and turned to face him. "You know I liked it better when you stayed out of my personal life like I do yours. I don't know why it's so hard for you to do." This wasn't part of the plan, she was supposed to be preparing dinner and he was killing her buzz slowly, making her want to down a few drinks before her guest arrived.

"Because you're hiding something." He explained. "You all are."

"Like what?" She asked, knowing the list was endless.

"Like why he carries a gun." She didn't bother arguing with that. "Come on Joss, we were all in the service; you know I can tell."

"So he's packing. I'm sure it's licensed." She lied, knowing John's skill set didn't include form-filling. "What's the problem?"

"He was looking at me like he knows something I don't."

"Again, like what?"

"I don't know. At first I thought you were engaged or something."

She laughed to herself and pictured John as the man on the top of a wedding cake. "Talk about jumping the gun."

"Now I _know_ it's about Taylor."

She sighed, realising she had run out of time to avoid the conversation at hand. "What'd you wanna know?"

"First of all, where is he?" He looked around as though that would make their son appear.

"At a Schoolboy Q concert with his friends."

"So?" He probed.

"A couple of years ago, Taylor was taken from school."

"Taken? Like kidnapped?" She nodded. "When?"

"Freshman year."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you why."

"It was work, wasn't it?"

" _Anyway_ , the only one who could get him back was John."

"Why?"

"Because I was in a bind, Paul. My hands were tied, so I asked him for help. And he brought him back in one piece."

He rubbed his mouth with the palm of his hand. That meant he was thinking about something. The vein in the side of his head showed he wanted to punch the nearest wall in frustration. "Who was it?"

"I can't tell you that either."

"Well, what _can_ you tell me?"

"It was a mess that got cleaned up a _long_ time ago. Tay was shaken up for a while but we managed to put it behind us."

"You didn't tell me." He sounded disappointed, that did something to her she didn't understand.

"No. I didn't."

" _He_ didn't tell me either."

"He doesn't like to think about it and you know better than anyone how hard it is to tell your dad you're scared."

Paul nodded with good reason, after all as a kid it was his own dad who terrified him. "I'm gonna talk to him."

"No you're not. He'll talk about it when he's ready."

"And what if he never brings it up?"

"Then that's _his_ choice. You can't force him to open up to you."

"I'm not gonna force him."

"Paul, if Taylor hasn't told you by now, there's a reason. And you should respect that instead of forcing something that isn't there."

"What isn't there?"

She didn't want to ruin her evening and all she wanted was for him to leave as soon as possible. "I didn't tell you 'cause there was nothing you could do about it."

"And now?"

"Now, you know there's someone else who looks out for him, who'll protect him if he needs to. John's a good man; you can believe that."

He grunted dismissively, the jackass gets a reprieve this time. "I just have one question."

"Shoot."

"Is he FBI or CIA?"

"Goodnight Paul."

He left without resisting because although he'd worn out his welcome but it was still amusing to see her annoyed after all that time.

 _9.12pm, Joss' apartment_

 _Wow... just wow._ The dining table they barely used had a cream tablecloth draped over it. _Her vegetables came from the fridge not the freezer._ Her sirloin steak might have rivalled his. _She made sauce, real sauce, not something from a packet._ And she made him dinner, real dinner, like it was Thanksgiving or something. And it smelt like heaven.

 _Note to self; buy wine glasses, real ones._

"This is nice, really nice."

"It's food, John." Her smile was more bashful than he remembered. She raised a glass. "So you both survived with all your teeth, congratulations." She half-joked.

"What did you think would happen?"

"With you I never know what to expect. He thinks you're a Fed. Let's keep it that way."

 _Clink._


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: I should have mentioned that John first meets Evelyn in Chapter 23 of Body Count. Here's to elephant lamps and Irresistable love...  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday, 17_ _th_ _May 2014, 9.11pm, Joss' apartment_

From where Joss was sitting, John's appetite for food was like his appetite for sex. He seemed used to periods of deprivation, so he gorged to overcompensate. If left to his own devices, she was sure he would've eaten the tablecloth such was his consumption of three plates of food. But on the flip side for it was nice to see him feel comfortable, feeling at home. John's military file was so scant on personal details she knew what was lacking could fill a small library and, although she was curious the time they spent together confirmed that she could wait until he opened up to her.

"So when are you gonna move back in?" He asked, looking around the living room.

"What'd you mean?"

"Your stuff. You had more stuff when I used to come here."

"You mean when you broke in and took me to Texas?"

He cleared his throat and ignored her. "Like the elephant lamp."

"That old thing?" The brass elephant's truck held up the white lampshade for 20 years; it was a house-warming gift from Paul's mother, Nicole. She always thought it was tacky but didn't have the heart to tell her she didn't like it. "It's in storage. I've been meaning to sort through my stuff but it's a lot of work. And how about you? What's it gonna take for you to lay down some roots?"

He poured the last of the wine in her glass on purpose. "You mean _tracks_."

"I mean a place called home, even if you do bounce every 4 to 6 months. Matching plates, souvenirs, _something_."

"I've got a punching bag."

She smiled. "That's something."

"I'm a gypsy. Don't know how to settle down."

"Is that what you tell all the girls so they don't get too close?"

"No, I just disappear." He half-joked, truth be told getting too close wasn't an issue when he could go off the grid altogether.

"I guess I asked for that huh?"

"You know how to find me."

"Yeah, follow the bullet shells and the police report."

 _Clink._

 _9.11pm, Joss' apartment_

John sifted through her music collection, to get inside her head and to annoy her by putting her CDs out of order. His shoes were somewhere downstairs but at least his shirt was still on.

"You know the classics. Monk. Davies. Coltrane." He sounded impressed that she shared his love for the disorderly art of jazz.

"And the youngbloods. If you can call them that; Albright, Ibrahim, Clarke."

The next CD he found drained her cool points down to zero. " _Kenny G_?" She elbowed him. "Kenny G?"

"Hey, _Songbird_ is my jam." She snatched it out of his grasp. And I know what you're doing; I order them by feeling, _then_ genre. Not A to Z."

"Okay, so who's Gary Taylor?

She looked at him as though he had denounced evolution. "If we're gonna be together you _can't_ not know who Gary Taylor is. He's only the King of Quiet Storm." She took the CD out of the blue case and played her favourite song from the _Square One_ album on repeat. Considering how many sad songs she'd lived out, it was a relief to play it without needing tissues. "Do you dance?"

Whether he misinterpreted her question or he had two left feet, she wouldn't find out if he was a better dancer than Shaw that night. Instead of stepping on her dress or occasionally her feet, he rested his lips on hers.

" _I'm following signs into the heights of my passion, you haven't a clue, what you do to me..."_

The casual two-step didn't materialise as the bass didn't encourage him to move. Two rough hands on her lower back pulled her closer. He kissed her with depth and purpose pulling her in; he always was more expressive with actions than words. It was no surprise that he was a good kisser, after all this was the same man who knocked her out in a loved-up-loved-down slumber just weeks ago. It was she who surprised herself, by letting him unzip her dress in her living room.

" _Now every night, I mark the time until I'm with you. My body is locked, you hold the key..."_

It didn't take much wine or much of anything for them to fall clumsily through her bedroom door. There was no shortage of passion and on a full stomach, John bore a vampiric need to quench his thirst. She had heard that a man's loving was better on a full stomach but she couldn't remember where. And everything was happening so fast she didn't have time to think about the open door, or her dress on the floor. John was like a persistent rain that washed over her, fighting it was futile, no amount of running would stop her from getting wet.

" _I don't ever wanna lose the thoughts of how you make me feel inside. So to keep my sanity, I'll mark the time by counting the hours, counting the minutes, counting the seconds, irresistible lover..."_

They would never have enough time to do the things they wanted to do, to say what needed to be said. There would always be somewhere to go, someone in need, something to do. That's why time was precious. That's why she gave in, time and again, until her body was spent, until she had nothing left to give, until she was on the verge of passing out with her mouth open.

"Stay with me." She murmured, drifting off to lala land with that light chewing sound.

Against his better judgement, he did as she asked not thinking of the teenager across town, making his way home.


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: I wrote a scene where Shaw gets John out in time but you know I love writing conflict. Next chapter will have a time jump based on a prompt from_ **SWWoman** _about Monique, Taylor and Amy. But more about that later._

 _This is for_ **odalys-ortiz**

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday, 17_ _th_ _May 2014, 11.56pm, Joss' apartment_

Taylor knew something was up when she wasn't waiting downstairs to bust him for coming in late. He noticed the brown size 12 shoes right away because of the horse and jockey logo amongst the sneakers and heeled boots by the door. _John's here._ The sink was full of pots and utensils he never knew they had, a clear sign that she went to town making him dinner. The vibration of the bass came from the living room where a song he hadn't heard before was playing on repeat. When he turned off the music the room felt hollow, maybe because the dishes and empty wine glasses were still on the table like two people got kidnapped in the middle of their date. _Gotta stop watching horror movies._

Her bedroom door was open which struck him as odd because she never did that. He didn't know why he was standing in the doorway but once he saw them together he couldn't look away. John was holding her in a way he'd never seen any man hold her before. He found it weird; weird and kind-of-normal at the same time. She looked serene, like she finally let go of whatever was worrying her for long enough to get some sleep. She stirred but didn't wake up because her fingers were between John's, and he was squeezing her so their bodies made 2 crooked letter S's. Although Taylor was pissed John's shirt was hung over her wicker chair like he was one suit away from moving in, at least he wasn't making her cry and that scored points in his eyes. _Like a B_. _B Minus for the shirt._ But John looked right at home. _At home? C Minus._

The most 'at-home' Paul's girlfriends ever were was making breakfast in a T-shirt then disappearing after a few short weeks, or months later, if they were lucky. Deep down he felt it was wrong but he didn't feel he could say it. Or anything his dad didn't want to hear. Maybe because he seemed fragile, unable to hear the truth without crumbling beneath it. _Maybe._

 _Sunday, 18_ _th_ _May 2014, 2.05am, Joss' apartment_

John knew he shouldn't be there, but he had become so comfortable it was hard to break away from the warmth of her bed and of her body perfectly slotted in his arms. It was like she sweated intoxicating drops of jasmine and rained down on him until he was soaking wet. How else could he explain how she was weakening him this way? He located his clothes before realising his shoes were still downstairs. _Amateur's error._ The only way out was downstairs and he couldn't remember which one of the steps squeaked. It was futile trying to figure it out as Taylor was waiting downstairs. He couldn't sleep with John in the house. After seeing them in bed together he couldn't sleep at all.

"Are you serious about my mom, John?" He asked, wondering if he owned any clothes other than suits.  
John answered with a question. "If I tell you, will you tell her?"  
"That was an accident."  
"I know. But I think you should leave it to the two of us from now on. Seeing as I haven't told her."  
"You haven't?"  
"I'm gonna tell her on my own time."  
"Like when?"  
He shook his head. "You haven't heard a thing I said, huh?"  
"I need to know that you're not playing her. That you won't dump her when you get bored."

John realised he was saying something he probably hadn't said aloud before. "Look, I don't know what you're used to but I have no intention of _dumping_ your mom. I see where you get your curiosity from though."

"I don't know what I'd do if someone hurt her."

"Don't think like that. All you need to know is I care about Joss and I do all I can to protect her." Nods. "And that's why I'm leaving through the fire escape."  
"Is this one of those _I wasn't here_ kinda things?"  
"No it's a _quit while you're ahead_ kinda thing."  
"Are you really a Fed?"  
"If it makes you happy."  
"Wait, what?"

 _8.26am, Joss' apartment_

Joss hit the palm of her hand on her forehead when she realised John had spent the night and it was her fault. She winced when she stepped on a silver cufflink barefoot. Not to mention the door was open, not all the way open, but open enough. Her head started to ache at the thought of Taylor seeing them in bed together and thinking his mom was a whore with a neon _Open 24 Hours_ sign on her bedroom door. She put on a mismatched pair of pyjamas and ran downstairs looking for her cell phone. There was only one number to call.

"Did Finch call you back to the townhouse?" She asked, smoothing back her hair.

"No. I got the feeling you'd change your mind."

"About what?"

"Asking me to stay with you. I didn't plan on it, you asked."

"Must've been the wine talking."

"Thanks." He replied sarcastically.

"I didn't mean it like that it's just...you left the door open."

"I didn't want to wake you. And I think I left my cufflinks over there."

"Yeah, I know..."

"I'm sorry, I should've been more careful." His tone was almost clinical.

"It's my fault."

"Why does it have to be anyone's fault?"

She decided now wasn't the time to explain mother guilt. "I'll get those cufflinks to you."

"Thanks."

 _9.33am, Joss' apartment_

After working herself up for an hour Joss braced herself for an awkward conversation with her son. Taylor was in the same clothes he wore to the concert the night before. His room was night and day, half of it was clean enough for her to sit on his computer chair. "What's up?"

"I wanna talk about last night." He shrugged his shoulders. " So how was it?"  
"Great." He showed her the illegible signature on his left arm.  
"So you guys met him?"  
"Yeah."  
She spun from side-to-side awkwardly. "I'm glad you had fun...About last night,"  
"Mom-" He didn't want details. He wanted his memory wiped.

"We have to talk about it, Tay."

"Why?"

"'Cause what affects you affects me."

He sighed. "Is John moving in?"  
"Of course not." She was confident that locking John down was as easy as putting a bridle on a Mustang. Taylor got the answer he wanted, but he still wasn't satisfied. "He shouldn't have stayed, but that's on me 'cause I like having him around."

"You really like him." He couldn't mask the sadness in his tone.

"I do, I like having someone I can count on. What's going on with you, Tay?"

"What if he hurts you?"

She was struck by five simple words as thought he'd posed a deep philosophical question. "I don't know. No-one goes into a relationship wanting to get hurt."

"That's not an answer."

"There is no answer. It's just life. Is this about Dad?" He hated when she read him. His silence said enough. "Because I remember how you took it when he broke up with Tracey. And I think you'd feel bad if that happened to me. Tay, I don't want you worrying that something bad's gonna happen, 'cause it's not."  
"How do you know?"

"Because whatever happens, I can take it. And I think John's a man of his word. Don't you?"

"I guess. Aren't you scared?"

"There's not much left to be scared of. And before I know it, you'll be out living your own life, so it feels like it's time."

He squeezed his blue stress ball. "Why did he leave through the fire escape?"  
"He doesn't know if he's a Shark or a Jet."  
"I don't get it."

She smiled. "Of course you don't."


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: A combination of sickness, writer's block, stuckness, getting unstuck and the rewrites have caused the delay. I'm still writing..._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Three months later, Monday 4th August 2014, 4.20pm, Oasis Spa, Brooklyn_

Just because Evelyn promised to wait until Joss finally brought her mystery man around, it didn't mean she would do it impatiently. In her opinion, their relationship wasn't progressing at the speed she would've liked and the idea of not being able of not being able to put a name to a face unnerved her.

"Look at my face." Joss took another look, there was nothing wrong with it. "My mud mask practically crusted over waiting for you."

Joss knew better than to argue, instead she kicked off her shoes and explained her lateness away. "I'm sorry. I got caught up. Soon as the sun comes out everyone's got some kind of emergency."

"Mm-hmm. _Every_ time we try to do something nice together, something comes up. You need to get away from that desk."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Mmm, sassy too. We need to catch up."

"I just saw you yesterday.

And you were _so_ forthcoming at lunch. What's there to hide?

"Nothing." _Everything_. "I'm an open book." _With a few, key chapters missing_.

"Okay, so when will we meet him?"

"I don't know yet, he's not ready for that. _We're_ not ready for that."

Evelyn fingered through the magazine in her sing-song voice, specially reserved for telling it like it is. "You know, I don't know if I like the sound of him keeping you in the dark."

The manicurist smiled. "Ma, it's not like that."

"I hope not. 'Cause that's almost as bad as Paul's new pop tart."

"Ma-"

"I was _this_ close to telling him to find someone his own age when I saw them."

"Where?"

"At Whole Foods. And get this; she's a gym bunny. _With a uniform_."

Joss grabbed the nearest magazine and caught an article about work-life balance. "They say curiosity killed the cat."

"And satisfaction brought her back. All nine times. Is that _O Magazine_?" Joss didn't get to read half a page before giving it to her. "Do you have that jet water thingy?" She asked the manicurist who was filling their large foot baths with blue salt. As he bubbles formed she wriggled her toes like a child. And the fishing began. "Much better. So, has he ever been married?"

Joss immediately thought of Zoe. "Just for the weekend. Maybe a week."

Evelyn thought she was being sarcastic. "Kids?"

"Nope."

"You know I watched a documentary…"

"No, Ma. He's not gay."

"'Cause it's not like you can tell by looking."

Joss sighed and threw her head back. As soon as her feet hit the water, it was all worth it "I can tell."

"Taylor said he's got a killer 1-2 combo."

"He knows how to defend himself."

"Wrap sheet?"

"Long as my arm."

She flicked through magazine unsatisfied. "Fine, suit yourself."

 _Wednesday 6th August 2014, 5.33pm, Joss' apartment_

"Paul."

"John."

Taylor didn't know what to make of the grunting and odd monosyllabic greeting between John and his dad. Whenever they saw each other, they were short on words but the room grew thicker with tension the longer they stayed in it. Joss seemed immune to it; choosing to empty the cupboard of snacks for the journey rather than watch them grunt at each other It didn't help that John showed up on a Ducati Streetfighter S the same day they were due to leave for their long-awaited trip to Virginia. Taylor attributed his coming in through the front door to the motorcycle helmet; he wasn't convinced John was a fed because he didn't act like any of the Agents he'd seen on TV but he couldn't describe whatever he was.

In the past few months they'd been more discrete but also secretive; he could hear their muffled voices in the night when they thought he was asleep but couldn't make out what they were saying. He swore they were up to something, sneaking out late together like they were in some kind of secret club.

"Are you guys ready?" Joss asked, reappearing from the kitchen with the last bag of potato chips.

"I think we're all good. You?" Paul asked Taylor, looking John up and down. _Leather-wearing, motorbiking jackass._

"Yeah. Ma, _please-_ "

"Take care of your car, I will." She rolled her eyes, ever since he got his keys he'd practically been living in it. "You stopping by Milton?" She asked, to snap Paul out of the staring match.

"Uh, yeah, and and Hillman. We should get going." Paul lifted the stuffed duffel bag over his right shoulder.

"Sounds great. Take care and take these." She tossed the potato chips Taylor's way. "Call me."

Paul mumbled something incoherent on their way out. Taylor didn't get why his dad was acting weird again when he had a new girlfriend; a pretty one who worked out for a living.

"Tell me, what on Earth did you see in that clown?" John asked, hanging his leather jacket on the couch.

She laughed to herself. "Trust me, it made sense at the time. So, what's with the outfit? It's not like you to wear leather on leather."

"Just staying mobile."

She wasn't buying it. "Try again."

He sighed. "You should sit down."

"Okay." She hadn't invited him over to be the bearer of bad news, in fact she welcomed the idea of staying together for as long as they could now they had the house to themselves. "What's up?"

"Simmons is dead."

"Simmons is dead?"

John nodded. "Finch is looking into it, poking all the holes in the prison records system for the autopsy results. But he intercepted a letter; official comms from the Federal Bureau of Prisons. Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me what you want me to do."

"Can you find out who did this?"

"I can try. But you might have better luck."

There was only one person she was close to who could've done it without getting cauht, but it was still surprising he brought up the idea of making contact. "You think Elias is behind this?"

"I think he has reach, from wherever he is. And he likes you enough not to kill you."

"We're not exactly on speaking terms. I'm not sure I want to invite him back into my life."

"Of course not. I'll do what I can. What are you thinking?"

"That it was easier when he was rotting in a cell. I mean, I had concerns but at least I knew where he was. I guess I just don't know what it means. So I don't know _what_ to think. Things were just going back to normal, as normal as they've ever been, is it crazy to want that?"

"You're asking the wrong man."

"I guess so. It's not like you to be here in the afternoon. What's going on? Another number?"

"I didn't come here to talk about work."

"No?"

"No. I came to tell you that I'm here for you, whatever comes. _And_ I've got a spare helmet."

"Thanks. But I don't feel like running or _riding_ away right now."


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: I'll get more frequent, I promise...thanks for hanging in there.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 15_ _th_ _August 2014, 8.07pm, 8_ _th_ _Precinct_

Nate Dalton wrung his clammy hands together, in the last five hours he'd answered the same questions over and over, so much so he was forgetting the truth. When his ex-wife was found dead in the home they used to share by her part-time cleaner, he was the first and only suspect. Joss put a bottle of water in front of him and asked the same question, this time standing directly behind him.

"Tell me again, Mr Dalton. What happened the last time you spoke to your ex-wife?" She asked, checking her phone. Besides answering Taylor's question – _no you shouldn't eat Aunt Leanne's potato salad_ – there were no messages. Not even from the man who was staying with her, as much as he could anyway.

Nate massaged his temples and repeated the words he'd said so frequently they lost all meaning. "I asked Cara to drop Kelly off early on Friday so I could take her home early and take an extra shift on Sunday."

"What did she say?"

"She said I'm always changing the rules, when that's not true."

"Were you upset?"

"I was annoyed." She noted he was self-correcting; he used _pissed_ and _mad_ prior.

"Because?"

"Because she always makes a big deal out of nothing. _Made_. Look Detective, I didn't kill my ex."

She sat on the edge of the table, facing him. "Maybe you did. So you wouldn't have to deal with her anymore. Did you hate your ex-wife?"

"Everyone hates their ex. _Dislikes_ their ex. Doesn't make me a killer. Don't you have to charge me to keep me here?"

She checked the time on her phone. He was only five hours into the 24-hour holding period. "You watch too much TV, Mr Dalton. You had custody issues, and from the looks of your bank statements; money issues. Some people would call that motive. If your ex-wife died not only would your daughter benefit from the insurance payout, but she'd inherit the house you used to live in as a family. Goodbye Cara, goodbye visitation, goodbye child support."

"I want a lawyer."

"Of course." She left him alone and confused in the interrogation room.

Fusco was waiting for her at the desk where he made a formation of red and blue hockey figurines. He watched her right eyebrow do its dance as she put her thoughts on paper. Another Friday night and there they were; spending it together. She hadn't figured out who that said more about.

"What are you thinking, Carter?" He asked, moving the red ones into defence.

"My gut says he didn't do it. Although he has a point, you think everyone hates their ex?"

He smirked. "Wrong guy to ask."

"Enough said."

He looked around and lowered his voice. "You said you'd read me in going forward."

"There's nothing to tell." She said nonchalantly.

"You sure?"

She leaned in. "You mean am I thinking about dealing with a man with a taste for the finer things in life?"

"You said it, not me."

"I want answers." She admitted, thinking it was taking too long for Finch for procure the unedited autopsy report. The only version she'd seen was whited out so all she could make out was the time and place of his death. It didn't indicate whether it was a murder, a suicide or an accident either, leaving her no clearer on Elias' involvement.

"We all want answers." He warned. "But-"

"But he's not a something-for-nothing kinda guy, I know."

"So?" He prodded,

"So, I haven't decided yet. But I did promise Taylor he'd have a drama-free senior year."

"And?"

"I shouldn't have made a promise I wasn't sure I'd keep."

 _Saturday 16_ _th_ _August 2014, 3.01am, Joss' apartment_

It didn't take long for Simmons' death to become news. Joss had caught the tail end of enough whispered conversations at the Precinct to know he would be buried soon which was precisely why she buried her head under the covers the first chance she got. She soon found that hiding away from the world was impossible with a lover who was determined to find her and pull her out of the hole.

"Come here." He said, guiding her on top of him. "If you can't sleep, I can't sleep."

She reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. "I'm sorry."

He rubbed her back, her tank top was damp with sweat. "Don't be sorry. Talk to me, Joss,"

In times like that she realised why he was there; to make her feel safe when things were spinning out of control, to be to her what she was to him, to stabilise this mess, to comfort her.

"Elias used to eat Scallops Marsala and wax poetic about Sicilian wine, how he wanted to move into the distribution game."

"Maybe he was just playing with you, I mean, who knows what that could be a front for?"

"He sounded serious. And the more I think about it, it's got his name written all over it. Who else could make this happen in a maximum security prison?"

"Why does it bother you?"

"I'm a cop."

"Turn it off."

"What? My brain?"

He kissed her forehead. "Your sense of impending doom."

"You think I'm just waiting for something bad to happen?"

He flicked on the lamp and tugged at her tank top. "I think...you should take this off and let me do the worrying."

"You're just trying to get me naked." She replied as her top went over her head and landed somewhere on the floor. "The man in the _birthday_ suit."

"You say that like it's a crime." She couldn't think of much else with his tongue in her ear, besides where he could put it next.

"You know, now would be a good time to tell me what you want."

"You know what I want." She playfully bit his bottom lip.

"That's not what I meant." They locked eyes. "You want to go to after him, don't you?"

She looked from side-to-side. "I just want to talk to him. Ask him some questions."

"Promise we'll do it together." The last thing he needed was for her to go off solo. "Promise."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine."

"Say it."

"I promise." She stated begrudgingly.

"Fix your face Carter. We make good partners."

"Mmm...in more ways than one."


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: Again, thanks for hanging in there.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Tuesday 19th August 2014, 6.02pm, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

Joss pondered Nate Dalton's assertion that all people hate their exes when, having read through 40 pages of acrimonious text messages and statements from the mediator at their daughter's drop-offs, Captain Vega decided to charge him for his ex-wife's murder despite her hunch that he didn't do it. Between that and the newlywed murder that bled through the airwaves while she and John were making the most of her kitchen counter that Saturday, her caseload was growing but she was barely making progress. She was hopeful when she received a text on her burner phone from Finch. On her arrival he learnt two new things about her; she was on level 37 of Ms. Pacman on her phone and it was difficult to work under her occasional expectant glare.

"Would you like some tea? Herbal, fruit, traditional?" He asked, eyeing the empty armchair in the corner of the room. _If she could just move over there…_

"I can take a hint, Finch. You can't find any more intel and I'm in your way."

"I wouldn't use those words exactly." He sorted through the tin box. "I recommend Forest Fruits."

She gave in and dunked the bag until the water was stained red and the perfume scent of hibiscus danced under her nose. "What are you thinking?"

"There's a new number."

She sipped, despite the smell it tasted like pink pond water. "That's a statement of fact, not a thought."

"Touché. I have a location on Elias."

She sighed with relief. "That's the break I've been waiting for."

He looked unnerved like he was waiting for what she would do next. "However-"

"You don't wanna give it to me 'cause you think I'll go out raising hell with a 12-gauge?"

"Not exactly." _Yes, exactly._

"I'd take it as a compliment." Shaw commented, unceremoniously butting in to their conversation. "It's about time something interesting happened around here." She threw a chewed-up rope toy across the room for Bear to catch.

"I suppose that means crisis averted." Finch printed off a newspaper article.

"Yeah, the girl with the thing on her face lives to scare small children another day. What's this I hear about a 12-gauge? I'm _fascinated_."

"I was speaking hypothetically." Joss noticed she only ate the red gummy bears and today she was doing something uncharacteristic, almost smiling.

"Okay, so _hypothetically_ my offer still stands, Carter. If you ever need an assist…"

"I'm sure your working styles are too _different_ from you to work together effectively. Not to mention your ethics."

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Call me. _Hypothetically_."

Finch cleared his throat. "About that number…Andrew Price, 47, just moved into the Welling-Shield development in Brooklyn, he's under threat of assault."

"Any reason why?" Joss briefly contemplated taking her up on her offer.

He read from the article. "Nate Corday, older brother of Michelle Corday, victim of a car accident in '09 that left her paralysed from the waist down. Mr Price was the driver."

"Was he drunk?" Joss asked, thinking if she gave him her time he might be more forthcoming with Elias' location.

"He was under the influence of steroids. Andrew was sentenced to 18 months for reckless endangerment but due to prison overcrowding he was transferred to a diversion programme for substance abuse."

Shaw filed her nails. "So he never did time. And the brother's got his pitchfork out. Can't blame him though. He's gotta be good for at least a broken arm."

"That's not the way to deal with it. Going vigilante is ill-advised." Finch reminded her.

"How? What's wrong with forming a one-time-ass-kicking-army?

"You can't right every wrong, one _ass-kicking_ at a time."

"You can't?" Shaw was genuinely confused. "Then what are we doing here?"

 _Thursday 21st August 2014, 8.49pm, 8th Precinct_

Fusco knew it was futile but he advised her anyway. "Let it go, Carter. You read the texts. He called her a terrorist." He pressed the sugar button on the coffee machine three times over, his urge to drink was still there but he suppressed it with sugar.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I still say he didn't do it."

"It's a lost cause if you ask me." They locked eyes and she picked up on his double meaning. "Did Glasses come through?" She nodded. "It's a trap, Carter. And you're walking right into it."

She knew deep down she ought to listen and take his warning more seriously but she couldn't bring herself to do it. All she had to do was make one phone call and she'd be headed down the highway out of state.

 _Thursday 21st August 2014, 10.04pm, Port Morris, Bronx_

John's dark grey minivan was parked near a Charter School, just where he said it would be. The half empty pizza box sat on the dashboard as he tweaked the radio knob for a decent station.

 _There'll never be a better, never be, be a better love…What the world needs now is…at the Copa, Copacabana…Well if you told me you were drowning…I'll set fire to the rain…Oh-Oh, I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien, I'm an Englishman in New York…_

"Perfect." She made a face. "Come on, _everyone_ loves Sting."

She conceded because it wasn't her car. "How's the new place?" He looked at her with surprise. "What? You think I don't know you moved out of the apartment? I don't need a Machine to find that out, _Conrad Bridges_."

"Just staying mobile."

"If you say so. I still live in Manhattan, in case you were wondering."

"I know where you live." Even though she hadn't seen him in a few days it still made her feel bashful. "So, this _Kill Bill_ campaign you've got going,"

"I'm not trying to kill Elias. I wanna know if he had something to do with it."

"So you can do what?"

"Get clarity."

"On Simmons?"

"I can't describe it; it's like an itch I can't scratch."

"There's lotion for stuff like that. Last location on him was Newport, Rhode Island. Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Of course. Why? You scared, John?" John changes the station back.

 _Gonna take a lot to keep my away from you…there's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do…I bless the rains down in Africa…Gonna take some time to do the things we never had…_


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Guys, it's been a crazy month - much too long and I'm sorry. Thanks to everyone who's kept on checking in.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 22nd August 2014, 9.24pm, Joss' apartment_

Taylor couldn't describe what was wrong with his father, just that something was. And because he traced it to his less-than-stellar idea to drive past the house where Paul and Eddie grew up, he felt responsible for it. Suffice it to say, it was a dump. In a neighbourhood which was a dump. In a town in Norfolk which was a dump. Overgrown weeds poked through the broken fence and they couldn't have gone in if they tried because the dilapidated house barely stood and was wrapped in barricade tape like a gift no-one wanted. Between his dad's hometown depression and the side effects of eating his Aunt Leanne's potato salad, the trip to Virginia wasn't what it was supposed to be. Whatever that was.

"Where's your mom?" Paul asked, looking around Joss' cold living room for signs of John but as usual, she left the place immaculate.  
"I don't know. She's not at work though."  
"How'd you know?"  
"She left her badge."

Paul's silent nod meant the wheels were turning. "You think she's up to something? Like last year?"

"No." _She's probably out with John._ "She said that's all over."  
He wasn't convinced. "Then it's the three of us tonight."  
"Three of us?"  
"I called Monique."  
"Oh." Taylor hadn't decided whether he liked her yet.  
"Oh?"

"I'm tired, I just wanna crash."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Simultaneously reluctant and relieved to leave, he needed to be alone but didn't want to be. "If that's what you want, I'll call you tomorrow."

What Taylor wanted, was a clue and he found it in the burner phone in the kitchen drawer.

 _Saturday 23rd August 2014, 8.54am,_ _Breakwater Motel, Newport, Rhode Island_

John made her promise to work with him rather than behind his back because he was afraid of what she would do without him. He had yet to scratch the surface on what she was capable of; that became clear when he woke up in a Groundhog Day-like haze to the sound of Culture Club on the radio. Her empty side of the bed in their raggedy motel room sent his mind spinning with where she was and what she was up to now they knew where Elias was. His first instinct was to search through her bag for clues; she left her fake ID, taser and burner phone behind but was smart enough to take a gun. The keys to the minivan were missing from his leather jacket pocket. He didn't understand how she made it out without waking him, until two shot glasses stared him in the face from her futile attempts at teaching him how to play spades. He reneged so many times she gave up and all he could remember was their bourbon-inspired game of Go Fish. Somewhat. He tried to think straight, use his brain. There were no signs of force of entry to their room. The minivan was still outside so she must have left of her own free will. But why?

"You hungry?" She asked casually, carrying in a brown bag. She read the look on his face and was amused by how quickly they'd switched roles. "You thought I _bailed_?"

"It crossed my mind."

"I picked up breakfast. You remember breakfast? The most important meal of the day." She tried not to be offended but she was. "Did you know between here and _Denny's_ , there are three churches, two pawnshops and a post office?"

"No." He tried to distract her. "Did you know you sleep with your mouth open?"

"I do _not_." She protested, holding the bag out of reach. "I wouldn't mess with your food source if I were you."

He hastily put on a t-shirt inside out. "Is this the point where I say _Uncle_?"

"No, it's the point where we talk about me going in solo. English muffin?"

" _Alone_?"

"I don't want him to think it's a set-up. I just want to go in there, ask a few questions and get out."

He didn't know whether she was being naïve or hopeful. "Elias never does anything without getting something in return."

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. What? You're the cat with ninety-nine lives, this can't be the biggest risk you've taken."

"You mean walking into Mobland, Rhode Island without reinforcements? No, it's not. No eggs?"

"I didn't want to hang around. Especially after I swiped this." A _Sweet Freedon_ headline graced the front page of the local newspaper. "Get it? Free Don? Donald Giacomo Campioni of the Campioni crime family. It's answer number one."

"To what question?"

"Why Elias was sighted here? Check this out; after a high-profile drug trafficking case fell through this year due to evidence tampering, Campioni got an early release. According to this, he refused to enter the Witness Protection Programme. Now, if he didn't snitch, what does that sound like to you?"

"HR. Now I wish I brought more bullets."

"So you see why I need to go in alone."

"In what world?"

"John."

"No. So what's the new plan?"

"You want me to go in there with my 6 foot 3 bodyguard as conspicuous as an AK47 at a kid's birthday party?"

"Exactly."

"You can't be serious."

"As a heart attack."

"I'll flip you for it. Heads says we do it my way. Tails says we don't do it yours."

"Did you learn that in Law School?"

"Fine. You call it."

 _5.59pm,_ _North Kingstown, Rhode Island_

The reunion with Elias overlooking a creek had all the fun of an awkward threesome with John playing the third wheel. John wondered how many bodies were hidden under the water.

"I missed this." Elias greeted, looking greyer than he remembered.

"Missed what?" Joss asked, thinking of where Anthony was and if he was still using that stupid nickname.

"You have a way of showing up at the perfect time. Go on, ask me."


	30. Chapter 30

_A/N: Here's hoping everyone who celebrated Thanksgiving had a great one. And if you didn't because it was your people's land first, I totally get it.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _6.02pm,_ _North Kingstown, Rhode Island_

To say that John didn't like Elias was an understatement. If he closed his eyes long enough he could transport himself back being in the sub-zero truck with a baby girl in his arms. The trouble with Elias was the never-ending ties to him, like all roads eventually led back to Elias despite how twisted and unrelated they appeared at first glance. And that meant they were stuck with him forever. As arrogant as he was in his belief that he could rule everyone and everything, his information was never wrong.

"Perfect time for what, Elias?" John asked, feeling the vein in the side of his head burning against his skin.

He smiled and cleaned off his glasses. "To discuss recent events."

"Simmons is dead." Joss stated casually.

"I heard. And now I know it's true."

"Because?" She asked, not believing that she was the first to tell him at all.

"I've heard it from a credible source. You."

"Where's Anthony?" John asked, thinking how implausible that was.

"He's occupied. Where's _your_ companion?"

His self-satisfied smirk made John want to punch him in the face. "Companion? The dog or your old chess partner?"

"Either."

Joss rolled her eyes and lied through her teeth. "We know HR sprung Campioni out of jail, Elias. And considering he never went into Witness Protection, and HR is dead and buried, I'm guessing you're here to offer him protection in exchange for whatever HR wanted. A shell business maybe? A new alliance with the Campionis and the other Families of Rhode Island? Whatever it is, I don't care. I just need to know what happened to Simmons."

"Nature abhors a vacuum, Detective. HR, the Russians, it's time for a rebirth."

"Or a resurgence." John surmised.

"The Campioni family owns a well-known vineyard in Sicily in the Mount Etna wine region as well as a number of legitimate businesses."

"So that's what this is about; you moving in on all the empty spaces. You're not operating in the shadows; you _are_ the shadows."

Elias peacefully looked out into the water. "I am…finally free. That's thanks to you Detective, you cleared the way."

 _Sunday 24thAugust 2014, 6.03am, Jackson Heights, Queens_

Waking up at the crack of dawn was a habit Paul couldn't shake from his military days. It didn't help that Monique's apartment was a storey above a Bangladeshi restaurant and neon signs from across the sheet shone through her faint sky blue curtains. His t-shirt was damp. He didn't know why he let Taylor talk him into driving past the old house or what he thought he would achieve by taking him to Virginia in the first place. _Jackass._ The thought came to him; their road trip was more about John moving in on his son than taking a trip down Memory Lane. Especially when Memory Lane led to an intersection between Poverty Street and Trauma Avenue.

Monique's Senegalese twists moved across her face like snakes as she stirred when the front door shut from her roommate getting in from a wild night out. Susan. His counsellor would have a lot to say about this and he was already dreading the appointment on Tuesday. He could barely remember having sex with her, but knows they did because the large rose tattoo on her right hip. Susan would call it reckless, say he was numbing himself, that sex didn't equal intimacy, blah, blah, blah. She didn't get it.

If he hadn't spent the weekend with her, not thinking or talking about his hometown, he would have called Taylor like he said he would and he wouldn't have felt guilty about the chain of unanswered text messages from the night before. All he knew was Joss still wasn't home and Taylor went to a party at C.J.'s. Monique tossed a few more times, pulling more of the covers her way until she woke up to pick his brain. "Are you gonna tell me what's up with you or not?"

 _7.53am, Yorkville, Upper East Side, Manhattan_

Joss could think of a number of things to call Simmons' death but she never thought it would boil down to being mutually-beneficial for herself and a mob boss she kept in a basement for the best part of a year. She felt duped. Not just by a man whose life mission was to build an operation bigger and further-reaching than his father's, but by her own belief that she was doing the right thing the wrong way. Or the wrong thing for the right reasons. If her own understanding of justice was so flawed this is what it led to, she didn't know what to believe. John tried to take her mind off it with bourbon, a pack of cards and even her favourite radio station, but to no avail.

Ironically she and Elias had a powerful driving force in common, they were both trying to surpass the life works of their fathers, improve up on it even. Unfortunately, the man in the picture in her car was better than this. The outcome she'd worked for felt more like a stain on a uniform than a trophy.

John knew a plate of eggs wouldn't fix it but it was worth trying. At least she liked his new apartment; a condo on East 86th for John Harrow, an Arts Dealer.

"Thanks." She said, too preoccupied to be fussy. "So what era does he deal in?"

It wasn't like her to ask about his cover, seeing as he changed identities almost as often as he changed suits. "Impressionism. Paintings."

"Right." She nodded, barely tasting the food before swallowing. "Look John, I really appreciate what you did for me."

"But.."

"But I need some time to myself. I need to get back to Taylor and make sure he's ready for school and…just think."

He had a feeling he wouldn't be seeing her for a while. "If that's what you want."

"It is."

"You know how to reach me, Carter."

She smiled faintly, feeling a lump form in her throat. "Yeah I do."


	31. Chapter 31

_A/N: There's one person from Trinidad & Tobago who follows this fic and because I've never been and want to go, this is for them.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Sunday 25th August, 11.27am, Joss' apartment_

"Good Morning Jocelyn, is it still morning? Or is it the afternoon? _You_ would know if you _both_ hadn't skipped church today and missed the lovely tribute to Esme, you remember Esme, the lady who made the jalapeno cheddar cornbread. Anyhoo we missed you, both of you, and I hope this isn't a habit. You could always bring your new _friend_ , you know. Call me." _Beep._

Joss was never surprised by her mother's ability to scold her on voicemail and pry for information in the same breath. She had spent the morning thinking about how to not think about John and rearranging her closet where she mapped out HR but her kneejerk reaction to put some distance between them was still fresh on her mind. Deep down she knew what she was asking of him was unfair, to straddle the line between lover and friend as she saw fit, but she didn't know how to merge the two without losing something. In some ways they were better off as friends, but John wasn't the kind of lover any woman could forget. And even though she was still carrying the disappointment of essentially raising Elias to higher heights, part of her still wanted him sexually just to make her forget. Then she remembered she promised not to use him.

She stared at his grilled cheddar cheese sandwich with equal parts envy and gluttony. By the time Taylor caught on, he was halfway through telling her about C.J.'s party the night before. "Ma, if you're hungry just take half."

"No, I'm fine." She lied, feeling peckish for anything but eggs. "I'll have cereal or something. So, what time did you get it last night? I knocked."

He scratched the back of his neck. "Not _that_ late."

"Yeah right." She replied cynically. "Anything else you wanna tell me?"

"Promise you won't get mad."

"Tay,"

"A bunch of people from West Haven and LDV showed up and it got a bit crazy."

"LDV, the gang?" She repeated, sipping on a bitter black coffee. She had four homicides on her caseload linked to them that hadn't been solved because of the No Snitching rule.

He was surprised her mind went there so fast. "No, Lycée de Villeneuve. The French school."

"Where were Julie and Cyril when this was happening?"

"Key West."

"Florida, of course. Then what happened?"

"Someone called the cops."

She threw her head back and groaned. "Taylor. How many times do I have to tell you-"

"I know, I know. _The company we keep_. Technically it's Dad's fault. If he never blew me off, I would've been in Elmhurst all weekend."

"Blew you off how?"

"He never showed up at the gym yesterday and I haven't heard from him since Friday. He's gone all weird again."

She sighed and tried to downplay it for his sake. "Give him the weekend. He probably needs to…gather his thoughts."

"If you say so."

"I do. And I've known him longer, so I think I know what I'm talking about." He smiled. "Anyway how was your trip?"

"It was okay, kinda. Why didn't you tell me he was poor?"

"Because I've never called him that, and you shouldn't either."

"You know what I mean."

"It's not something he's proud of, and I never thought it mattered. Do you?"

"Is that why he cut them off? That's what Aunt Lauren said, that Dad cut everyone off and never came to visit 'til now."

Her coffee mug didn't hide her raised eyebrows. She liked Lauren's lack of discretion as much as she liked her stale potato salad. "You should ask him."

"So you know why?"

"Only he can tell you why there estranged. Tay I know it's hard but I can't answer all your questions."

"Why not?" He asked genuinely.

"Because what a man shares with his wife is different from what he tells his son. He deserves to tell you on his own time. Sorry." He sighed because he wasn't satisfied. "Tay, Dad's not your responsibility. And he has Susan to talk to and she is _very_ good at her job." He shrugged his shoulders. "Hey, I've been thinking about next year. _You_ should be too. Do you know where you wanna go for college?"

"I think I wanna stay on the East Coast."

She was relieved even though she didn't say it. "If that's what you want…"

 _1.03pm, Turtle Pond Lawn, Central Park_

John resolved to give her what she wanted, space, in a physical sense at least. With the cameras of the city watching her starting from her doorstep, it wasn't like he could keep a few thousand eyes on her. Mostly, he was annoyed with her for letting Elias, of all people, get between them and frustrated with not knowing what she wanted. This was why it was easier to be solo; because relationships threw him off his game, made him lose focus instead of keeping his mind on the job. And although it meant working with Shaw on a Sunday afternoon, he was relieved when a new number came up.

"What's new, Shaw?" He asked, wondering where she got the Yorkshire Terrier on a leash.

She stared across the pond. "See the grey Newfoundland? She's called Lolly."

"Our new number?"

"The owner. Bradley Van Adams, 34, Account Manager for an upscale events company on the Upper East Side. He just got invited to a private Renoir exhibition a few blocks from your new digs, John _Harrow_."

"Family?"

"None in the city. He's from Toledo."

"Partner?"

He looked despondent enough for her to enjoy it. "What'd you do?"

"Does. He. Have. A partner. Shaw?"

"I knew you'd mess it up. No current girlfriend but he's got a thing for older women."

"How much older?"

"50 plus. So you blew it, right? How?" She asked with intrigue and glee. _Hell if I know_.

 _Monday 26th August, 8.36am, 8th Precinct_

Fusco's ex-wife Jean often accused him of being inattentive during the course of their marriage so Joss knew something was up when he remembered her breakfast burrito order – no cheese, salsa verde and extra avocado. Someone had moved two files on her desk, an LDV shooting and the Cara Dalton murder she still felt her ex-husband was innocent of. "What'd I miss?" She asked, checking the false bottom in her drawer for the pocket-sized surveillance notepad.

"Wicks got suspended. They sent a team to a squat in Midtown, one of the new office buildings, this one guy refused to leave so Wicks tased him. The video went viral last night; it turns out the guy's schizophrenic, homeless and went into cardiac arrest. They say he'll make it but with all the bad press hitting the stands this morning, Cap'n's making a live statement at 10."

"Damn."

"Tell me about it. And they're just about to roll out those body cams after the whole Garner thing."

"You think he'll step down?" Joss asked. Typically, she'd be indifferent to his departure considering so many bad things happened to her under his watch, but after the weekend she'd had she didn't trust her own judgement as much.

"Maybe." He cleared his throat. "Look Carter, it's been crazy here but it looks like you had a quiet weekend out of town, right?"

"Yeah. You know me…"


	32. Chapter 32

_A/N: Hang in there, it won't be long, I promise...  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Wednesday 3rd September,_ _Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

"Zip me up."

Shaw listened intently from the other side of the bedroom door, raised her eyebrows and felt a strong yet sudden craving for popcorn. The messy low bun, nude belted midi dress with convenient cut-outs and legs that went on for days. John Harrow's date to the private exhibition was Zoe Morgan and she couldn't wait for Joss to find out and to resume her rightful place as the Cleo to her Frankie in shooting them both for sport.

"You know it's been a long time since I heard from you. I thought you forgot about me."

John's hands shook as he did as she asked. "Just been busy. Places to go,"

She smiled and sprayed on some aromatic perfume that didn't smell like jasmine. "Lives to save."

"Something like that. Zoe, I need to tell you something about tonight."

"Can you put this on?" She asked, producing a string of pearls from her clutch.

"Sure."

"What were you saying?"

"I invited you because-"

"You want another round after? 'Cause I forgot my cards."

"No, what I'm trying to say is, there's someone."

She seemed amused, and brushed some lint of his lapel with her hand. "With you John, there's always someone. But it never lasts. Now, how do I look?"

 _A week later, Tuesday 9th September, 10.00am, 8th Precinct_

Joss finally got a break in the Cara Dalton murder case when the Acting Captain issued a search warrant for her workplace. Work was keeping her mind off John, at least when she was on duty. The nights ranged from lonely to brutal, especially when Taylor stayed in Queens. She quickly grew sick of being home alone, and kicked herself for making it that way. More so, she kicked herself for falling for him and not being able to stop it. It wasn't that she hadn't tried calling John, she just never let it ring because of the possibility of hearing the dreaded dial tone. Besides they were better face-to-face and that hadn't happened yet. Fusco made a mockery at her healthy eating by bringing pizza flavoured Cheetos into the bullpen. "What's this about the Cara Dalton murder and the "innocent" ex only _you_ think is innocent?"

"You ever seen someone about that chip on your shoulder, Fusco? They operate on stuff like that."

"Why? I kinda like it. Anyway, what'd you find?"

"Cara was the HR manager but she kept one folder locked away in her desk. It has post-its, notes, birthday and Christmas cards, gift cards, even a Happy Divorce card. Did you know they made those?" He looked away; he not only knew about them but he sent them out on occasion. "All from the same guy; Robert Delisle in Accounting."

"If she worked in HR why didn't she report it?"

"I think she was waiting for the right time. She did keep a record of incidents; unwanted contact, inappropriate suggestions, invitations to lunch, drinks and dinner, compliments on her appearance. By the way, you're getting crumbs on my evidence bag."

He ignored her. "Let me guess; this guy, Robert, is off-sick today."

"Actually he's supposed to be on training in Brooklyn but he never showed."

"Let the hunt begin. Hey Carter,"

"Shoot."

"What'd you call someone on their first marriage?"

She sighed. "What?"

"A sucker. What'd you call someone on their second marriage?" She rolled her eyes. "Come on, it's a good one."

"Fine. What?"

"A sucker for punishment."

 _6.45pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst_

Even though he'd only been introduced to it a few hours before, Taylor already knew he hated _Paradise Lost_ , John Milton and his English Lit teacher for subjecting him to Books 1 and 2 in the second week of school. Not that he could concentrate, he spent most of the lesson staring at a high ponytail of black curls with a split in the middle and flashing teeth…only a piano version of _The Simpsons_ theme song snapped him out of it. Monique was at the door expecting his dad to be there. He guessed she didn't know about Susan.

"Juice?" He offered, making space for her at the kitchen table.

"Just water." She looked around the kitchen. "So where's your dad?"

"At work." He lied because it was easier than explaining who Susan was and why he needed to see her every week. "Are you okay?"

"Paul said he'd be here. I guess I'm early."

"D'you wanna call him?" He offered.

"No, I'll wait." Her eyes landed on the calendar under the clock. _Susan._ The name on alternate Tuesdays and Thursdays, including the 9th. He didn't know what to say to so he put on his headphones.

 _8.14pm, 8th Precinct_

Robert Delisle still had powdered sugar on his lips when Joss yanked him out of the Treacle Bakery in Midtown in handcuffs earlier that evening.

"What happened the last time you saw Cara Dalton, Robert?"

"We were at work. We talked."

She cleared her throat. "I mean the evening of the 14th."

"I didn't see her on the evening of the 14th."

She nodded. "Right, because your car went through the traffic lights at the end of her street at 9.38pm, what do you call that? Night?"

He swallowed. "I was in the area. I have a friend on Jamison Street."

"Okay Robert. What's their name? 'Cause that's your alibi, right? That's where you were when someone strangled Cara Dalton to death in her own home."

His eyes shifted. "I want a lawyer."

"Of course. I know how you felt about her, Robert, I also know she was never, _ever_ , gonna be with you. 'Cause you creeped her out, and she was scared of you. You never had a chance and it didn't matter how many times you asked the answer would always be no. Is that what happened? You showed up at her house thinking you could change her mind and she told you no again? But this time, you wouldn't take no for an answer. You couldn't. This time you'd hold on tight and never let go."

"I want my lawyer."

 _11.02pm, Joss' apartment_

It had become a sad ritual; pulling back the covers of an empty bed, skimreading Cheaters for what happened next to Shelby and Tyrel, and falling asleep wishing someone was there to hold her. Sadé said it best; love really was stronger than pride, and if Joss was a braver woman she would have accepted she was in love with him already. Instead she needed it to be pointed out to her, highlighted and underlined.

"Hello?" She answered the house phone in a hushed voice, it's not like they ever got anything more than the occasional sales call.

"Why are you whispering?" Evelyn asked, half-concerned, half-amused.

"No reason. Ma, I was just about to go to sleep."

"Alone." She stated matter-of-factly. "If your friend was there you wouldn't have answered." _She's good._ "So what happened?"

"Nothing, Ma. I just needed some headspace."

"Ahh. Space; the relationship killer."

"Ma-"

"Do what you want, Jocelyn. It's your life. But I'd like to remind you that you gave Paul 50-11 chances to get it right because he's fine so John shouldn't suffer just because he's ugly."

She couldn't help but laugh. "He's not ugly. Far from it, actually."

"He must be ugly if you're icing him out so early."

"I'm _not_." She protested a bit too much.

"Uh-huh, 'night Jocelyn."


	33. Chapter 33

_A/N: This is for everyone who read Body Count and wondered why it took John so long to say three little words to Joss.  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Wednesday 10th September, 1.32am,_ _Yorkville, Upper East Side, Manhattan_

 _Wise men say, "Only fools rush in." But I can't help falling in love with you. Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? If I can't help falling in love with you._

She knew she had no business listening to a Classic Rock station with a glass and a half of wine in her system as she crawled the city streets in her navy Hyundai Coupe. There was one word to describe her behaviour and how she felt: stupid. But she couldn't stop going before her liquid courage failed her and she realised this was really her giving Joan Clayton a run for her money; that lovesick, that crazy, that stupid. On the other hand, John was amused by how long she _could_ spend staked outside his apartment building but had no desire to find out.

To his eye, she didn't look the same. There was something sheepish about her posture like a retreating clam. And even though she said she wanted space, common sense told him to coax her out.

"Drink?" He asked, swishing brown liquor in a short glass.

"Not tonight," She tucked her left leg under her and rested her head on the couch. Small talk seemed so irrelevant but at least it would buy her some time. "What've you been up to?"

He smiled. "Just keeping our latest number from getting hit by a car."

It piqued her interest. "Details?"

"The events company he _works_ for is actually a high-class escort service. His latest client has a crazy ex-cop for a husband, maybe you know him. Eddie Everett?"

She thought for a while, the name sounded familiar. "I know _of_ him. He got suspended for excessive force, more than once. Didn't stop him from serving fourteen years though. Tough guy."

"Yeah, well, at least he didn't leave tyre marks on our guy."

She didn't know why but it made her smile. "Sounds like _some_ adventure."

"Yeah." A stack of cards on the window sill across the room caught his eye. "I saw Zoe."

A jolt of something hit her spine. "Zoe Morgan? Saw her how? Like _fake wife_ saw her?" She tried to relax and fix her face, with three questions in roughly five seconds, she was showing too many cards.

He took a deep breath and wondered why she reacted so strongly. "It was more like _date to a viewing_ saw her."

"Ahh." She was nodding and that couldn't be a good thing. "Zoe, your go-to girl."

"Joss, come on."

She stared him in the eye. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Making me feel stupid."

"How?"

"I-I don't know. I can't explain it, you just do."

"About Zoe?"

"No. About you." She sighed and reached for her jacket, making him determined not to let her leave.

"How about you just tell me? Whatever it is, just tell me. Joss, I don't know what I've done or what you want from me. I do know that we're better together than whatever this weird space is. Just tell me what you want."

"I want you to stop doing this to me."

"What am I doing?"

"Pulling the rug out from under me. God."

Her face flashed with heat from the embarrassment of putting herself out there again, feeling so exposed, while he didn't have the emotional vocabulary to tell her something reassuring. He watched on, feeling the air getting sucked out of the room, and it hit him. He wasn't alone in his feelings for her, she was drowning in her own torment that started the day they crossed the line between lovers and friends. He wasn't the only one feeling the absence, he wasn't the only one who'd remembered what it was like to be held again. She actually loved him beyond the playful banter and armed partnership. She loved him period. Like Frankie said, _this affair never will go so well. But why should I try to resist when, baby, I know so well; I've got you under my skin._

Joss didn't have time to ruminate over her choice of words. All that stood between them and his new bed was a few breaths and a layer of clothes. She noticed John Harrow's hair was short at the back when she locked her legs around his neck and refused to let loosen her grip until she shuddered from a guttural orgasm that gave her momentary tunnel vision. He flipped her on her stomach and kissed his way up the back of her leg, up to her thigh where he met the poorly-drawn shooting star tattoo again; proof she was capable of making bad decisions and a reminder that he might be her worst decision yet.

"What?" She asked, wondering why he stopped.

"Why can't we just be together, without you needing to figure it out or overthink it?"

"I'm trying, John. I really am. It's just the way I am. I don't know how to be something else."

He laid beside her. "I don't want you to be."

"John, I can't love you like Jessica. You're not that man anymore, and I'm not that woman." He furrowed his brow and blinked hard as though that would make him see clearly. "I kept that picture because it was the last of your innocence. And we haven't talked about it since. Because you keep that, her, for yourself. And that's why I needed space; to sort through what I keep for myself. The truth is I don't know if we have it in us to share anymore, or if we're better off as friends, I just don't know."

"What do you want me to do, Joss?"

"Tell me."


	34. Chapter 34

_A/N: This is **also** for everyone who read Body Count and wondered why it took John so long to say three little words to Joss.  
_

 _Ref: Ch3 and 4 for the Shield reference._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Wednesday 10th September, 2.28am,_ _Yorkville, Upper East Side, Manhattan_

John was at a loss for words, at least the kind of words she needed to hear. He was much better with his lips, his fingers, his stroke, even his gun. John was a doer, rarely a talker, and a thinker on occasion. It was ironic that Joss accused him of pulling the rug from under her feet when her world was colliding into his and shaking its foundation. What he didn't want to tell her was she was throwing him off his game, luring him into believing things could be different, giving him hope; like Jessica. Jessica.

 _You still wear her like a shield._

How she had stung him with that one, hit him where it hurt, where he would remember. Jessica was present today, alive even, in the bedroom with them like an uninvited guest. Her hair smelt like peaches and shone with flashes of gold in the sun, but Joss wouldn't want to hear that. She was his great escape, but he couldn't tell her that either. He loved her with innocence that died with her. Today if Jessica was his shield she wasn't protecting him, she was the barrier between them or maybe he was and she was just a better excuse. And Joss was doing that thing he hated, the thing he knew she would, she was reading him again and because he couldn't express how he really felt, and wasn't ready to unburden himself, he put the ball back in her court.

"Who's the man in the picture in your car?" He asked, after zoning out until his eyes glossed over.

She knew from the Service that sometimes you have to give intel to receive it. "He's my father. Colonel Josiah Emmanuel Taylor. His friends called him Jet. Ma called him Joe. He was a…man of high standards."

"I bet."

"Yeah. He used to say, ' _If you're not gonna try your best it's not worth trying at all,'_ so I like having him in my car. Even though he used to drive me nuts."

"Duty."

"Duty. Where were you guys?" She asked, referring to the picture.

"Just a local spot with a beer garden." He couldn't control his half-smile when talking about her. "Palomas. That's what we had. She wasn't much of a drinker and I couldn't have a pink drink in uniform without tequila in it." He thought she was taking it much better than he imagined. "I was waiting." He self-corrected. "She was waiting with me. We knew it wouldn't last."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because I could never be as good as I was when I was unattached. I was always better off alone."

She swallowed his sobering truth and it burned on the way down. "Did you tell her?"

"No. I couldn't do that. I couldn't tell her I'd never be able to give back what she gave me; my love wouldn't be enough for her."

"And then?"

"And then I grew into a man she could never love again, so she wouldn't want me and it wouldn't hurt her anymore. It was supposed to be different; protect her from me. Instead,"

"It wasn't your fault, John."

He exhaled. "If you say so."

"I do. Because I know how it feels to leave and feel responsible for what happened next." She sat up against the headboard, looked down at him, and stroked his face. "When I left Paul, I took our son to my mom's and left our home. I filed without even talking to him. He was in a really bad way and couldn't keep a job and he ended up homeless, back on his cousin's couch in Virginia. And I thought it was my fault, 'cause I couldn't save my own husband." She didn't know why a tear was failing, it just was. "'Cause I saved my son instead. So when I say it's not your fault; I mean it, 'cause we all do the wrong thing for the right reasons."

He knew he should be comforting her, but he was too comforted by the tone of her voice and the brush of her hand on his face to do anything but let her take care of him, and work her way inside of him; penetrating untapped deeper places.

 _6.14am, Paul's house, Elmhurst_

It happened again. Paul woke up with his t-shirt stuck to his chest, drowned in sweat. His first thought was of his stress diary, not because he had reluctantly agreed to keep one, but because he would have to talk about his entries with Susan next week. The recurring dream wouldn't let up, it was the second time he was trapped behind the door and could hear the screams on the other side, and as usual he wasn't trying to open it, he was hiding under a blanket. Monique was already up, getting ready for her early morning HIIT class for people who actually enjoyed that kind of punishment first thing in the morning; people like him. He had pissed her off the night before, forgetting that she wanted to talk, forgetting he'd invited her over, and forgetting she was a vegetarian.

 _8.20am,_ _Yorkville, Upper East Side, Manhattan_

Although they hadn't reached a resolution, Joss slept surprisingly well. Maybe because she didn't feel the weight of Cal's death on her conscience anymore. If avenging it hadn't brought her peace, the only thing that would was acceptance; that it happened and she couldn't change it.

John wasn't expecting her to be there in the morning but he was relieved he hadn't scared her off. Now he'd had time to think it over, he was sure they didn't need to go peeking in Pandora's box for a while. He knew Joss deserved to know how he felt about her, but he wouldn't do that in the shadow of another woman. He'd tell her in his own time, in their own time, when he had the right words. She was picking the pepperoni slices off a cold pizza slice when his phone rang.

"Answer it John, before Finch hacks the Bluetooth on the microwave or on the TV."

"You've been around us too long, you know that? Finch…Mmm-hmm…yeah I'll be there in 10, 15 max." He looked at her. "You got those handcuffs?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Trouble on 5thAvenue, cheating wife, crazy husband."

"Again? Damn it, Eddie." She was more inconvenienced by not getting more than two bites. "My car or yours? John?" He was holding two helmets. "It's been a while since I rode a motorbike."

He smirked. "Liar."


	35. Chapter 35

_A/N: This is for **Jill88** who's had me on a serious Babyface binge all week and **odalys-ortiz** who cracked me up. _

_As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Three weeks later, Saturday 4th October, 7.02pm, Joss' apartment_

Once Joss knew she couldn't stop the falling, and fighting it just drained her, they lived in a wordless, title-less space and for the moment it was alright with her. Sometimes it felt like being suspended in air, just hanging there, with the blood rushing to her feet. Or her head. The head-spinning confusion and overpowering euphoria of falling in love with John. It was like learning a new language; the tones and inflections, the inside jokes and hidden meanings of an idiomatic love that didn't make sense any other way. And it was refreshing to talk to someone who understood things most people in the world couldn't understand. Well, except why he couldn't get her hair wet. So in the spirit of making headway, her first thought after finding some dusty Thai takeout menus under the couch was to invite him over.

She didn't know whether it was the soccer game his team lost in a penalty shootout that morning, or some other adolescent mood swing, but Taylor was less than enthused even though Pad Thai was involved.

"Dad said he wants to talk to you."

"I know." The truth was, she'd been ignoring his calls lately because she and John had been getting closer. She had no intention of cutting short John's story of how he went from a Catholic orphanage to a Group Home for Boys to the military in order to text Paul back. Whatever it was could wait. "How's the Backstage team?" She asked, sorting through their order.

"It's okay. It's just lighting, no big deal."

"It's just you've never shown interest in Performing Arts 'til now." He looked away. "And whoever she is, I hope she's worth all this time you've spent at rehearsal."

He thought he'd covered his tracks better than that. "How do you know that?"

"'Cause you've been acting mannish lately. Why else?" She halted his protest before it had begun. "I think they messed up our order; we got yellow panang instead of Thai green. Not that John'll care; he'd eat a horse if it came with steak sauce."

"Ma, I don't have to be here…on your date."

"It's not a date. It's dinner, for all of us. You're not the third wheel, I promise." He eyed the digital clock on the counter for a while. "What is it?"

"ResQ's playing at Terminal 5 tonight. I wanna go."

"Hell's Kitchen? They just had a shooting over there two days ago."

He hated how she always had a crime-related headline on standby. "Think of it as Hell's Kitchen Adjacent."

She laughed at his efforts. "And _she'll_ be there? The viola player?"

He caught himself before he corrected her with the flute. "Maybe."

"Psssssssh."

"Okay, she's going with her cousin."

"What time does it start?"

"8.30."

"Fine. You can go. Later. She better be smart and pretty. Emphasis on smart."

He smiled, she must have inherited her fishing skills from his grandma and refined them on the job. "Dad still thinks John works for the government." She blinked, finally silent. "But I think that's ridiculous."

She cleared his throat. "What makes you say that?"

"I've seen him fight. And there's no way the government trains people like _that_."

"Sometimes I forget what you saw."

"I haven't."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No. But I guess it makes him okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah. And I think he's a Private Investigator. You want me to set the table?"

She was stunned by how close he was. "Sure."

 _8.54pm, Joss' apartment_

"A P.I.?" John hadn't had many reasons to laugh all week but even in his absence, Taylor cracked him up.

"Yeah. I don't know whether to be scared or proud." She thought about it again. "I'm pretty proud."

He finished off another Cognac and coke. "You think that's how Finch got started?"

"I think Finch is a special case all around and you've got as good a chance of figuring him out as finding where I kept Elias last year."

"Don't remind me. So what does Joss usually do on a Saturday?"

"Well, when I'm not working, or _caping_ with you, I usually hit the gym and the gun range, Janelle does my hair, -and then I catch up _Barefoot Contessa_ or something."

"No girlfriends?"

"A couple sorors in D.C. Truth is, it's hard to be friends with someone and hide so much from them."

 _8.56pm, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

Never one to be out of the loop, Finch was listening in on their conversation. As long as they didn't know, he could satiate his curiosity and live vicariously through the burgeoning relationship. Shaw was just there for the snacks. "So this is what counts for Saturday night, huh?" Fusco asked loudly, busting them.

"How'd you get in here?" Shaw asked, swinging round in her computer chair.

"Keys." He joked.

Shaw was outraged. "So you mean to tell me that Curly Fries has keys and I don't?"

"If needed I always assumed you'd just…pick the lock. You have surprising light feet, Detective."

Joss' laughter echoed from one of the many laptop screens. "Hey, creeps, what're you doing? Is that Carter?" Finch slammed the laptop shut, cutting off the sound. "Someone needs a new hobby."

"What can we do for you today, Detective?"

"First of all, give my partner some privacy. Second, tell me why Elias is back on the scene with his new goons and no-one told me."

For once, Shaw didn't have a snappy comeback. Instead she just chewed on a stick of beef jerky and waited expectantly for Finch to say something.

 _9.21pm, Joss' apartment_

 _The Jerk_ was playing on TV because they agreed that Steve Martin was the best comedic actor of all time. Her Ipod was playing songs at random so Christie and Stevie of Fleetwood Mac were asking for sweet little lies. Another story, another Cognac and coke.

"…So you had sex in a broom closet at school?" She asked twice for confirmation.

"At that age, I wouldn't call it sex." She tried not to laugh which was hard to do, lying on a couch barely big enough for two. "So what convent did they send you to, _Miss I-don't-go-past-second-base_?"

"Funny. I went to a school _on_ the base, that's all. Some of us don't need nuns to-" The doorbell interrupted her sentence. "You ordered something?"

"Just the singing telegram."

"Cornball."

Paul was at the door, looking worse for wear. She was not interested as to why, she just wanted him gone. "What're you doing here?"

He wrung his hands together and she knew it wasn't a good sign. "We need to talk."

"About Taylor?"

He could smell the liquor on her breath when she spoke and noticed her earring was missing. "Not exactly."

"Then we'll talk next week. Same spot?" It wasn't a question. It's always the same spot; Tom's Diner in the city.

"It's pretty urgent."

She looked him up and down; no engagement ring. "Paul, I'm busy. And you can't just show up like this. Call first."

He rubbed his mouth with his left hand; he wanted to have the conversation anyway. He could hear K-Ci wailing from her apartment. "Busy with John?"

"Mind your business."

"You can just say it, Joss, we're all adults."

 _Are we?_ "Good seeing you, Paul."

Before she could close the door, he asked, "Uhh, where's Taylor?"

John replied for her, " _Terminal 5_ with his friends."

Only when she looked down at the arm around her stomach did she notice he took his shirt off. Skin. And then she looked up at Paul's face, and saw all the things she used to see before they had a blowout argument; his eyes were slimmer and the vein in his neck was bulging. Just because he never hurt her physically, it didn't mean she never thought he would. But now he and John were eyeballing each other. And their eyes said a lot more than _asshole_ and _jackass_.

She cleared her throat. "Goodnight Paul, see you on Wednesday."

He swallowed, not taking his eyes off John. "Wednesday."

"And call next time." John replied, before slamming the door shut.

Whether it was shock, adrenaline or just the hilarity of seeing Paul's face disappear like a magic trick, Joss burst into an uncontrollable fit of giggles like a schoolgirl. "You shouldn't've done that."

"I know." He graced her forehead with a kiss. " _You_ should've."

"John,"

"He's an asshole."

"Well, I picked him. And we have a son. So, no more door-slamming, I have neighbours. And they don't like noise."

"Really?" He tugged at her deep purple sweater dress.

She should've known. In her estimation, he'd never come across a rule he hadn't broken or bent out of shape. That was why despite her protests that they ate there, he lifted her onto the kitchen island anyway and smothered her neck in deep, biting kisses; walking a very fine line between pain and pleasure. It was the effect he had on her; to make her go with it past where she had been, past where she thought she could go.

 _"In so many ways I've rubbed off on you, and, you've been loving me long time, and I bet you always will…"_

His hands slid her dress up to her waist. "Tell me to stop and I will,"

"Liar. I don't want you to stop."

"Pick a safe word."

"Hmmm…" She thought while Tweet crooned.

" _You can't take away and you can't forget, that you been loving me long time…and I bet you always will…_ "

"Hummingbird." She replied, forcing down his jeans.


	36. Chapter 36

_A/N: It's amazing how Tweet brought us all together. Random fact: Every time I write a scene in Tom's Diner, I reference the song lyrics - including Body Count._

 **QueenJessicaPearson** _inspired the is for_ **Kiki** _and_ **impvme** _who stuck with me from Body Count.  
_

 _And speaking of Body Count, with the nod of_ **SWWoman** _there'll be an epilogue in time for Christmas! Gasp! And Bella will be back ;)_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Sunday 5th October, 1.37am, Joss' apartment_

 _"My body's hungry for your love and I got a taste for only you…"_

Joss was quick to learn that the thing about safe words was, you had to be able to form them for it to work. And she wasn't. Because eleven letters and three syllables were hard to say between clenched teeth, hard to utter with her lips around John and even harder to deliver when it hurt so bad it was good. How good? Damn good. How bad? Worse than pilates in 100-degree weather. It appeared John learnt his repertoire from Prince and she understood why there was such a thing as _too-good_ sex. Sex too-good made her lose her judgement. Sex too-good left her sprawled across the bed with a twitch in her leg. Sex too-good rendered her weak, and hopeful, yet high, and hopeful.

 _"And even though love like ours is never free…I'll pay the price foe ecstasy…"_

John had never been drunk in love, even at his romantic peak his hypervigilance won and although Joss' limp body made a great alternative to the covers, he heard the door close downstairs when she didn't. So before her knew it, just like the first time they saw each other, he pointed a handgun at Taylor.

"Sorry." He said casually, flicking on the light in the kitchen and placing the gun on the counter.

Taylor was more surprised by John's presence than the gun itself. "You're still here."

John found himself making small-talk to compensate. "Yep. I'm guessing you're late?"

Taylor didn't bother looking at the clock. "Kinda."

"D'you know you smell like a stand at the mall?" Taylor looked from side to side. _He's definitely a PI_. "So neither one of us saw each other tonight, huh?"

"I guess so."

"Is it still weird?"

John was still shirtless in sweatpants. Not to mention the gun on the counter. "Yep, still weird. Did it hurt?"

"This?" He looked at the crossbow tattoo on his right pec. "I didn't feel it. Why? You want one?"

His smirk gave him away. "I never said that."

"I'd be surprised if you _didn't_ want one. Just don't end up like the girl with 50 stars on her face."

Seeing as it had been months since they'd talked, Taylor was finally able to speak his mind. "I didn't mean to tell him how you felt and I never thought he'd tell her. It just slipped out."

"Don't worry about it. You were just looking out for your mom. It's what you're used to."

"Still. I said I wouldn't say anything so, I'm sorry." John didn't know what to say. There are two things he still didn't know how to accept without deflecting; thanks and apologies. Taylor was about to leave the awkwardness. "John,"

"Yeah?"

"She likes ice in her water."

"Got it."

 _9.50am, Joss' apartment_

 _"Hickeys give you cancer."_

Joss couldn't remember when or where she heard that it was scary enough at the time to stick with her. That was why she couldn't believe her own reflection, or the six, no, seven, hickeys on her breasts and neck. She'd already hit the snooze button twice on her alarm; the only church she was going to was Saint Cereal. "You going somewhere?" John asked, with a foot poking out from the sheets.

"Not now; look at me." She failed to finger-comb her hair into submission, the static kept it flat at the back.

He sat up and pulled down his bottom lip, showing her her her teeth mark. "You're not that innocent. What were you saying last night, about the nuns?"

She slipped on a sorority sweater and shorts. "Oh, some of us don't need nuns for discipline, when we live with Mother Superior."

"You're already in trouble so just come back to bed."

For the first time he noticed one of her eyebrows raised higher than the other. "For you to twist me like a pretzel again? I don't think so."

He viewed it as a compliment. "Okay, then come back to the floor."

"For your carpet sutra rug burns? No thanks." Her hair was now in a messy bun for Janelle to fix later.

"So I guess the chair is out of the question?"

"Sex or breakfast? Breakfast or sex?" His stomach grumbled. "Just like I thought."

 _10.07am, Paul's house, Elmhurst_

After weeks of holding it in, and waiting for him to tell her voluntarily, Monique couldn't take it anymore. "Who the hell is Susan?" She asked over breakfast. It was frustrating to watch him eat in peace after he'd mumbled that name twice in his sleep. At least Michael wore a ring and drove a family car with Happy Meal toys on the backseat. Paul wished he knew how she knew and had a way of delaying this conversation, but the look on her face said he'd run out of time. He sucked on his bottom lip, bit the bullet and told her. "She's my counsellor."

She wasn't expecting that. "She's just a friend", "She's my co-worker," or even, "She's my Sister in Christ"; she'd heard those ones before. So the good news was he wasn't a cheater. But the bad news was in therapy she didn't know why. "For what?" The deep sigh that followed indicated she wasn't getting an answer any time soon. "Okay, for how long?"

"About four years. Coffee?"

She shook her head; she couldn't be more awake if she was hooked up to an IV caffeine drip. "Are you… _were_ you an addict?"

He sipped the sweet cappuccino. "No."

"Then what aren't you telling me?" She asked, suddenly realising they didn't know much about each other. "You gotta tell me something. I mean is it anger management…" Her thought ran rife with what could be wrong with him and at the top of her list was hookers.

"I see her every week for stress and anxiety. Tuesday then Thursday."

"Why?"

"'Cause we play spades at Tony's every other Tuesday." It finally clicked why she was so on edge. "You think I'm cheating on you?"

She tried to choose her words carefully. "I have a habit of going down the rabbit hole with men so…I just need to know what I'm going into."

He nodded, knowing she barely knew a fraction because he didn't know how to talk about his diagnosis without eliciting strange looks or even worse, sympathy. "Look, everyone's got their own stuff, a past, we just deal with it the best way we know how."

"Can't argue with that. So why didn't you tell me, instead of letting me think you were blowing me off?"

"It doesn't matter." Deep down she knew it did. Deep down he knew it too.

 _Tuesday 7th October, 10.42pm, 8th Precinct_

Joss always knew when something was up with her partner when he turned down a baked treat. The untouched bear claw had nothing to do with the 60-year-old woman they arrested that afternoon for assisting her husband's suicide or the plea deal Robert Delisle took for 8 to 12 years for First Degree manslaughter of Cara Dalton under extreme emotional disturbance. He couldn't eat like normal because whispers turned to mumbles and Elias' name was being mumbled left and right.

"You busy?" He asked.

She was on her third coffee of the day, researching pentobarbital liquid for her report. "No more than usual, what's up?"

"I couldn't get a straight answer from our mutual friend."

She sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Fusco."

He leaned in. "How about what his plans are?"

"I know as much as you do." He knew she was lying and resented that more than whatever she was keeping from him. "And until I see Carl Elias in the flesh doing dirty, he's a case for Organised Crime and Fugitive Enforcement." She changed the subject. "What'd you think of Delisle's deal?"

"I think the D.A.'d do anything for a conviction. Opened and closed."

She nodded in agreement. "Any news on that autopsy, I need to know what his last meal was. Can you believe she ordered barbiturates off the internet?"

He stared at her. "Unbelievable."

 _Wednesday 8th October, 7.02pm, Tom's Diner, New York_

Even though Susan advised Paul's issue was not with John but what he represented, Paul couldn't help but notice Joss was glowing again. He was working on the root of his anger response but looking at her wasn't helping. And even though he didn't want to be with her, they'd settled into a place where he just assumed she'd always be around. And in that respect John was right, and still a jackass.

"Sorry I'm late. I'm having one of those weeks," Joss pulled off her wet jacket. The hickeys had her pulling out the turtle and cowl neck sweaters.

He was halfway through a book of Kakuro puzzles. "No problem, I got lost in it anyway."

She made small talk while the waitress who favoured Julia Stiles straightened her stockings when she thought no-one was watching. "Still good with numbers? Tay had to get it from _somewhere_."

He never could take a compliment. "It's just logic; a place for everything and all that."

"About Saturday," He held his breath. "I don't need you guys to do the whole macho, chest-beating thing. It's not worth it."

"I should've called. But _you_ -"

"I'm a grown woman in my own house, Paul. I know what to do. So let's all be grown-ups from now on."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. And still didn't like John. "What I wanted to tell you was-"

The Julia Stiles doppelganger took Joss' order. "A CLT and O.J. to go. Thanks. What were you saying?"

"We're having a baby." He braced himself for her reaction. But in the shocked silence, there was no reaction because he had literally taken her breath away. "Joss," She swallowed long and hard. "I wanted you to hear it from me."

"And I have." Her face of stone was no surprise to him; the opposite of love wasn't hate, it was indifference. "Have you told Taylor?"

"Not yet."

"Tell him."

"I will."

"This week."

"This week?"

"By Friday. I'm not keeping this from our son for you, Paul."

"I'm not asking you to. I just thought I'd have more time, to make some plans."

She was breathing through her nose. "You have two days. And while you're at it tell him to wear a-"

"He knows."

"Then tell him again 'cause clearly..." She shook her head and tried to remember his girlfriend's name.

"Fine. Have it your way. 'Cause you always know best…"

"If I had it _my_ way, Paul…" She stopped herself in time and remembered this could have been her life with him. And this is why it would have never worked; always having make sense of things, be the stability, prop him up and fix him. Or try to fix what could never be fixed because she never broke him in the first place. The man she was sitting across from was never her protector or her advisor. She couldn't remember if they were ever friends. The best thing they shared was their son. The most-enduring thing they shared was history. History; past tense, lessons learned, never to be repeated. Now he was someone else's problem and she was having his baby. As Evelyn would say, _Good luck and bless her heart 'cause she has no idea what she's in for_. "Congratulations." She mustered.

"Congrat-?" He looked at her in bewilderment because he knew she didn't mean it. He didn't know what to say to that.

She switched gears and wished her order would come sooner. "Taylor's guidance counsellor said he's distracted and I think it's the viola, cello or triangle player he's obsessed with."

Paul smiled because he knew something she didn't. "It's the flute. And he's not obsessed, he's just…being seventeen. Remember?"

The only thing she could remember about being seventeen was not knowing him yet. "Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough. And I can't even make that concert this weekend 'cause I'm on Saturdays all month."

"Then we'll go."

"You? Chamber music? If you say so…"


	37. Chapter 37

_A/N: So I watched 4x20 today and got all the feels - why do I do this to myself?  
_

 _As I'm writing the 7 years later epilogue to Body Count - feel free to send me your questions as reviews or PMs and I will answer them in the fic._

 _I meant to say **QueenJessicaPearson** inspired the bite from last chapter - Body Count ch.50 if you don't get it ;)_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Wednesday 8th October, 7.41pm, Tom's Diner, New York_

If John thought Paul was an asshole before, hearing him casually drop a bomb on her in public set that thought in stone. And to mention stone, she was glued to her car seat like a statue, trying to get her head together, angrily munching her sandwich single-handedly. " _It's the time of the season-_ "

"You know John if I ever shoot you one day it won't be for breaking into my car, it'll be for messing with my radio." She turned it back to the Easy Listening station where _The Corrs_ were singing about thunder, rain and players.

"Joss,"

"I know you know. I don't wanna talk about it." She replied, without looking at him.

"Okay, 'cause I've got a-"

She abruptly cut him off. "You know what drives me nuts about this whole thing? He's just waiting for me to tell Taylor, so he doesn't have to…'Bout he needs time. D'you know who needs time? _Me_. In a spa. Or a foreign country." She sighed. "Jerk. Jerk of the century."

John tried to suppress his smile, but deep down he enjoyed hearing her vent. Because it meant he was winning. "In Bed-Stuy, there's a-"

"You know what's the hardest thing about raising a son? It's teaching him how to be responsible when his father gets his twenty-something girlfriend, of about three months, pregnant."

He cleared his throat and inserted. "Twenty-seven."

"How do you kn…background check. Lord." She looked to the sky and it was raining even worse than before. "I should stop."

"You were barely getting started." He elbowed her.

"Anyway, what's in Bed Stuy?"

"Michelle Hernandez, 24, 4th grade teacher, former Girl Scout, and yoga fanatic. She gets out of Hot Pilates at 8.15."

"So who's with her?"

"Well…"

"Shaw? You know she hates the yoga instructor cover."

"But she's so good at it."

 _8.15pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst_

Taylor knew he was teetering on the edge of the friend zone by spending so much time with her but he couldn't help it. He had to be next to Isabella even if it meant pretending to know who Stamitz and Mahler were, or suffering through Books 3 and 4 of _Paradise Lost_. Every little thing she did was magic from frameless hipster glasses she wore to the Seth Rogen movies she quoted to the way she never lost an argument.

"Hodgkin's Lymphoma." She stated abruptly, as though her knew what she was talking about.

"What?" He had a habit of fading in and out of their conversations because he was staring so hard.

"Our presentation: a disease of the lymphatic system. So, what'd you think?"

"Cool."

"Tay, you're doing it again."

"Doing what?" She stared at him. He knew. "Fine, sorry."

"Can't we just be friends?"

"No, we can't."

She laughed at his honesty to cover the fact she was flattered. "I guess not. I gotta go, my mom's shift starts at 9."

"Shift?" The last thing he needed was another cop in his life.

"She's a paramedic. She always wanted to be a doctor."

"And that's why she wants you to go to Med School."

"Yeah."

She made a face. If he knew her better, he would've known she didn't want to. "And that's why you won't go out with me."

"No. I never said I wouldn't, I said I wasn't ready." He shrugged his shoulders, resigning for the day.

 _Thursday 9th October, 11.21am, 8th Precinct_

The surveillance tape from the Korean convenience store murder in South Bronx was frustratingly grainy considering the high-level technology she was used to. Although she couldn't identify the shell casings of the floor, the four pints of blood the owner lost from two gunshots to the abdomen were painted across the floor. She had the bullpen to herself because it didn't make for pleasant viewing. Fusco was growing mistrustful of her because she was keeping more and more information from him, or so he thought.

"What you got?" He asked, wishing he knew how to draw her out.

"Three teenagers try, and fail, to stick up a store, the owner, Dinh Ro, fires off warning shots so they run. But a bullet ricochets and grazes one of them – a girl – in the calf. Off they run back to the Mitchell Projects and the owner bleeds out waiting for an ambulance. No-one's talking, all we have is surveillance tape. Until our girl gets some medical attention. Which I doubt. So I think our best bet is local pharmacies and supermarkets. Bandages, antiseptic-" She didn't like the way he was looking at her. "What's up with you?"

"I heard about the arrest you made last night on Halsey Street. Attempted rape, right?"

"Yeah, some creep who matched the description of four reported incidents in the area. And however many unreported ones."

"You heard about the shootings in Little Odessa last night?"

"No. What happened?"

"Someone shot up Big Lube's bar with an AA-12, and left in a pick-up truck. Local PD found it as found torched on Neptune Ave this morning."

"Big Lube?"

"Lubomir Kryukov. Did 18 months for promoting prostitution in '09."

"Any fatalities?"

"None, three wounded. Who's shooting up bars in Russian territory?"

"Hell if I know."

"Carter,"

"Not now. 60th Precinct'll take care of it. Are you gonna help me find that girl or what?"

 _Friday 10th October, 7.20pm, Burn Astoria Gym,_ _Astoria, Queens_

A year prior, Paul agreed to train Taylor as a macho, self-aggrandising project to overcompensate for not having a son who played football like he, his brother and the other men in the family did. Now, their training schedule was falling apart because of his divided attention. Taylor noticed he was more preoccupied than usual but between Isabella, stage lighting – which was much harder than he imagined – and the stack of college prospectuses at home, he didn't have time to figure out or ask why. The truth was Joss' deadline had arrived and their son was none the wiser about his future brother or sister, or the fact the casual girlfriend he didn't think too much of would soon become a permanent fixture in their lives.

"Dad, you're supposed to be spotting me." Taylor reminded him at the power rack.

"I am. Your feet are too close together." Paul covered, barely. Ever since Monique told him kids weren't in her plans, he'd come up with ways to convince her to keep the pregnancy. And those thoughts were taking up a lot of headspace, so even though he knew she would be angry and he had promised to tell him; Paul let that deadline come and go.

 _10.45pm, Harlem Knights Bar, Harlem_

When Joss said she needed a private place to talk, Fusco's first thought went to a place he stumbled upon by accident back in the day when Jean kicked him out. He used to frequent there with his HR buddies who played cards, drank hard and occasionally stepped out on their wives and girlfriends. All to an 80's soundtrack like a cheap B-movie that played on a cable channel's Saturday night line-up. _"Back to back, sacroiliac, spineless movement and a wild attack …"_

They were the overdressed, odd couple in the corner of a party they weren't invited to. "So Glasses is looking for a new place. Sporty Spice wants keys."

She smiled, sipping the mocktail she ordered just because he was supposed to be tee-total these days. "I've never known her to take no for an answer."

"Me neither. So what'd you wanna tell me?"

"May 2013."

"When you got hosed."

"When HR sprung Elias from Rikers." He'd never heard this story. "They wanted to take him out, and I couldn't let that happen."

"So you let him go?"

"So I kept him safe."

He couldn't contain himself. "You what?"

"Harboured a fugitive? Hindered a prosecution? Aided and abetted?"

"Carter," He groaned.

"Lionel, I'm a good cop. And so are you. Sometimes we gotta break the rules but it's cops like us who need to be out there on the streets. I can't lose everything I've worked for chasing Elias' tail. So the further you dig, the deeper you bury me."

 _"I just died in your arms tonight. It must have been something you said…"_


	38. Chapter 38

_A/N: Rewatching the goodness that is Season 2 (esp. 2x20), I wanted to bring back an old character even for a short while.  
_

 _This chapter ties into their date in Ch50 of Body Count._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 11th October, 2.30am, Yorkville, Upper East Side, Manhattan_

The large empty Giovanni's Pizza box laid on the living room floor alongside the melted ice pack. The story he told was he got into a fight with two numbers but the abdominal bruising was more consistent with being hit with a blunt object. It didn't stop her from straddling him, there was something about comforting about the way he rubbed her thighs as they rested on hers. She was weary, solemn even, when she arrived unannounced to John Harrow's apartment.

"How do I feel, John? I feel awful. Criminal even."

"You're not a criminal. _I'm_ a criminal."

"He's never looked at me like that before."

"He's in shock."

"If you say so."

He rubbed his nose against her neck, the jasmine was wearing off. "That's the problem with full disclosure."

"What is?"

"You find out more than you wanted, or needed, to know. And you can't ever go back. So now he knows, he's trying to figure out what to do with it."

She exhaled because he was right and there was nothing she could do to change it. "I've never trusted my partner before."

"Are we talking about work?"

"It's always about you, huh, John?"

"Just checking. There's nothing you can do about it now, so let me take your mind off it."

The thought was enticing but wholly unrealistic. "Have you seen your stomach? Looks like you took a gut punch with brass knuckles. Maybe two."

"What? This old thing?" She rolled her eyes. His ability to downplay his pain was unmatched. "I was gonna tell you a story but since your mind's already in the gutter…"

She rubbed the back of his neck. "Nice try. Let's hear it."

He braced himself for the number of cool points he was about to lose. "So, when I lived in the Group Home, it was a sausage factory."

She closed her eyes and caught the mental image. "John," She groaned.

"Hey, I thought you liked my stories." She mimed zipping her mouth shut. "One summer we got a new Res – Residential Specialist – and she was…the girl from _Weird Science_. I was about sixteen and let's just say she was the star of many, _many_ dreams." She had no words, all she could do was shake her head because he really was taking her mind off her problems. "So, one day that summer I reached for the Vaseline and it was Vicks."

"No!" She exclaimed.

He nodded and looked down at the bruise on his stomach. "So this, is nothing. But I'll tell you one thing I learnt from my time there."

 _How to read the label?_ "What's that?"

"What pain really is."

"I'll get you another ice pack." She wanted to make an exit so she could laugh her ass off in the kitchen.

"Don't. I'm fine. You don't have to take care of me, Joss." She gave him a sad smile like he had her number. "I mean it. I'm not your patient, you're not my nurse. You're my woman. But if you wanna try on that cop uniform, I wouldn't mind that." Upon seeing that signature smirk, she wanted to slap him and more-than-kiss him at the same time.

"Not your nurse." She repeated. "I just have to keep the Vicks out of reach, huh?" He wasn't amused. "Sorry, that was funnier in my head. And I do like your stories. In fact, I call them 'The Teenage Adventures of John and John Junior'."

"More like misadventures." He made her smile and in that moment, she realised what that was worth. "Any stories for me?"

"I already told you I was pretty sheltered. We moved around a lot so I never had friends – real friends – 'til college. My sorors, my girls…" She smiled at the joke inside her head. "The first time I ever smoked weed was at a red cup party on campus. I'd just had this _big_ fight with Paul 'cause he wouldn't take me home even though we'd been together for a year so we all played _Never have I ever_ to take my mind off it."

"And you lost? Surprise, surprise."

"I was nineteen. I wasn't that experienced, _Vicks man_. So _anyway_ , no-one told me beer and weed don't mix, and puff-puff-pass turned into puff-puff-puke and it wasn't pretty." It was his turn to stifle his laughter. "That day _I_ learnt real friends hold your hair and anyone who cures your first hangover is a Big Sister for life."

It was a much better story than he'd expected. "Who's that?"

"Naomi. You know when I got demoted, she offered me a job."

"Doing what?" He was genuinely offended because the only job offer worth considering was with him and Finch.

"Criminal Defence. She has a law firm in D.C."

"Why didn't you take it?

"It's not my path. Besides, I couldn't leave like that, just uproot Taylor and desert you guys. Although, the thought did cross my mind."

"Really?"

"Yeah, for a nanosecond. Then I thought, what would you do without me?"

The phone rang. "Finch, always with the timing."

She reached into his blazer. _Catwoman_ flashed on the screen. "From the looks of it, it's Shaw."

"Shaw?"

 _3.04am, Borough Park, Brooklyn_

Whenever Shaw was Nina Sigales, advanced yoga instructor, people treated her differently; namely they weren't repelled by her snarl and black and grey attire. They talked to her, which was painful. They confided in her, which was torture. But the upside was, men approached her in great numbers because of her perceived and actual flexibility. The bicycle pose alone had gotten her three dates, not that she called them dates. Still, she accented her blue top and grey yoga pants with a pair of chunky black Doc Martens.

"So I was minding my business, downing tequila and sushi at the Origami Bar, with a discount Liam Neeson, when _this_ clown's number comes up _again_. So there goes my Friday night _and_ Saturday morning." She popped open the trunk to a black Jeep Wrangler they had never seen her in before. "You can thank me now."

"Thank you for what?" John asked.

"For doing your job." There was a sedated body in the trunk.

John pulled the balaclava off the head. "Leon Tao?"

"Long time no see." Joss commented, observing his black eye and the dried blood on the corners of his mouth. "Who'd he steal from this time?"

"A Mexican timeshare in Playa del Carmen. The _real_ owner of Villa Azul Marino has some serious connects in the city. Connects that did this." Shaw tore away his pants leg and showed them the contusions on his left knee.

"Who did that?" Joss asked, trying not to assume it was her.

"Araceli Fuentes."

"He got his ass kicked by a girl?"

They both stared at John in disgust at his blatant sexism. "Wrap sheet goes back 18 years; first charge was for gun possession at school, age 10. Pretty impressive for a girl, huh, _Johnny Bravo_?" Shaw fired back, thinking of the wasted opportunity with discount Liam Neeson.

"Where'd you get the ride?" Joss asked, noticing the Illinois plates.

"What ride?" She asked, playing hot potato with the car keys so John had no choice but to catch them. "We should move here, I like it."

" _We're_ not moving anywhere. Harold is."

Shaw had other plans. " _Anyway_ , you should come to my class, Carter."

"Me and yoga don't mix. But it looks good on _you_ though. Gotta hit the gym first thing."

John was vindicated that for once Shaw didn't know what to say. "So what are we supposed to do with Leon?"

"Feed him to Bear." Shaw suggested. Joss didn't remember her having a sense of humour or being #AbGoals. John couldn't remember when she learnt and mastered the art of cock-blocking.

 _5.40pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst_

It was shiny and new. As new as any car she'd ever had, seeing as she was still pushing a blue 2006 Honda Civic. Monique Martens wasn't exactly where she wanted to be at the age of 27, but she was much better than she would've been if she'd never seen life beyond Fulton Avenue, Rochester. She wondered if the life Paul was offering was really meant to be hers, especially since it came wrapped in a big red bow.

"It's a hybrid." He said, crossing this off his mental list of ideas to make her keep the baby. "If you don't like the colour-"

"I like the colour." She replied, rubbing her crossed arms. She knew she wasn't in the right mind to make a decision; she'd just been on the phone with her sister that afternoon about how Dalvin was still MIA and Carl was two hours late for the pickup that morning, and her hormones were raging despite how many miles she put in on the treadmill.

"You know I've got space. The spare room'll make a nice nursery. And the schools are good around here, there's a parochial school; St. Patrick's or St. Francis or whatever. We can make it work…"

He gave her the hard sell, and she didn't feel strong enough to resist because she didn't want him to leave her. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

He picked her up off the ground in a bear hug and kissed her. "You don't know how much this means to me. We can drive it to the concert, if you want."

She shook her head. "New car smell makes me nauseous."

"Cool, I'll drive. We should leave soon, beat the traffic."

"Yeah." At that point she didn't know if her yes meant yes, no or maybe anymore.

 _Monday 13th October, 7.10am, The Breakfast Club, Brooklyn_

To say Fusco was conflicted with the information he got from Joss on Friday night, was a huge understatement. He couldn't name the teams that played in the hockey game he took Lee to that weekend even though they painted their faces for it. Joss had been secretive, sneaky, underhanded even. In fact, she was like him. She did the things he did in HR to uncover the truth, for her own ends, the only difference was he was on the take and as far as his eye could see, she wasn't. It wasn't for the fancy clothes or expensive vacations, she did it for truth and justice. What he couldn't comprehend was why she was still in bed with Elias, figuratively speaking, when he'd served his purpose. She was relieved to see him. "I ordered you a special."

He looked at her plate in comparison to his. "What'd you order? A _special_ kind of torture?"

She smiled, if he was cracking on her then things were already better between them. "There's a fat side of my family, Fusco."

"Yeah?" He squirted ketchup over his hash browns. "Which side?"

"The side in South Carolina."

He laughed. "More cushion and all that. So what'd you wanna tell me?"

"That I'm sorry for keeping so much from you. Ever since I got back to work I've been trying to move forward but the past keeps catching up to me. And I didn't want you to pay for my mess."

He nodded. "Piramida Pool Hall in Bay Ridge, five wounded, no fatalities."

She tried to explain, but she couldn't. "Fusco-"

"Whatever he's planning, it's big. I need to know that you'll come correct if it lands in our lap."

She understood what he was asking of her and, to be honest, she couldn't agree to it. "I always do my job."

He took her response at face value. "Then we don't have any problems."


	39. Chapter 39

_A/N: I missed Bella and Evelyn, did you?  
_

 _Thanks to **impvme** , I accept my second non de plume as Viola Aunjanue P. Jean-Baptiste_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Two weeks later, Tuesday 28th October, 2.30pm, Joss' apartment_

Sex too good could take her mind off anything; off her son who was growing cagier and more mannish by the day because he had a girlfriend, off her ex who missed her deadline by eight days and added insult to injury by introducing Monique at Taylor's football game without warning, off two more LDV murders sitting on her desk that would never be solved, and off her partner's furry eye browed side-eye every time a new Elias-related rumour surfaced. She couldn't stop even though her thighs were close to giving out and her age was showing; which was why she kept drifting in and out of the conversation with her mother because she couldn't think straight.

"Jocelyn?" Evelyn repeated, rubbing her arm. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, really." Joss sipped the peach iced tea and took a big bite from the berry flapjack so she couldn't talk. As equally sweet and nosy as it was for her mother to stop by on her day off, Joss was waiting for her to leave so she could pass out on the couch to a Steve Martin classic.

"Is it Paul again, and his pop tart?" Joss continued chewing. "Taylor knows now and that's a good thing. It's about time you let go and stopped propping up their relationship." She protested with her eyes. "Yes you do. Trying to minimise the damage, I see he's still sensitive." Evelyn said sarcastically. "He's old enough to see who his father really is without you covering or making excuses for him." Joss swallowed but her mouth was so dry she started to choke.

As a retired nurse, Evelyn sat back and watched her cough until she was better. Seeing as her eyes were stinging, Joss changed the subject. "Tay loved Penn and U of I last year but the way his guidance counsellor's talking, I don't know if he'll make it."

Evelyn waved away her concern with a flick of the wrist. "He's going wherever that pretty girl goes, just watch, he'll follow her to the moon. And how's _your_ mystery man?"

For a moment Joss wished she was still choking. "He's good."

"I'm making Low Country Boil this weekend. Maybe a nice cake." She hinted.

"He's not coming for dinner, Ma. We're not there yet."

"Well, can you get there sooner? It's hard enough for you to find a good, straight, single man in this city, let alone one who served our country."

"How'd you know that?" Joss hoped Taylor hadn't broken under the temptation of her sweet treats.

"You just told me." Evelyn replied, matter of factly. Joss kicked herself. _Oldest trick in the book, damnit._ "And besides, who else wants to date a cop? Who could put up with all that worrying?"

She sighed because she was right, again. "I think things are happening at the pace they're supposed to."

Evelyn nodded along. "I hope so. 'Cause you know your pattern."

"What pattern?"

"Broken men. _Wounded birds_."

Joss almost rolled her eyes at the buzzwords she'd heard since she was a child. "John's a good man; he doesn't know it yet."

Evelyn finally understood. "So he's seen some things, done some things; bad things for the greater good." Joss' silence was complicit enough. "Well then, you know who he reminds me of…"

 _Wednesday 29th October, 2.37pm, 8th Precinct_

\- We missed it.

Joss only understood John's text when Fusco delivered the news that Xalvador Quiroga, a Colombian drug dealer to the wealthy residents of Forest Hills, was beaten with a steel baseball bat the night before and was lying unconscious in New York-Presbyterian, Queens. The four files on him she accessed in the system all bore the same name, _Calvin T. Beecher_. In their time together they didn't discuss work outside of the Precinct, so it was the first time she had any knowledge of what he had done. Three arrests that didn't stick, and a case that fell apart before they went to trial. Even though she wasn't in love with Cal, she did respect him, and the files showed why. She suspected HR was behind his failure, but the last file from a month before his death showed he hadn't given up. "It says here, Quiroga's a silent partner of _Madre Tierra_ nightclub in Corona, which explains why he was found four blocks away from Nicolls Ave."

"Maybe someone's trying to take over _Sureños_ ' territory." Fusco did a poor job of hiding his suspicion. At that point he saw Elias in everything, even the steam in the shower. "We should pay him a visit."

" _Narcotics_ should pay him a visit." She corrected him. "To build on this case. Finish what Cal started." He didn't agree but he couldn't protest when he knew how protective she was over the man, especially in his death. "We got a hit on Super Value Pharmacy on East 153rd, a teenage girl's been buying hydrogen peroxide, bandages and orange soda these past few weeks. Shavonne Wallace, matches the description of our girl from the store. There's a playground over there, _Governor Smith_ , we should check it out when school's out."

"You go on without me. I gotta prep for court. The DA's charging Elmarie Prewitt with Second Degree manslaughter for assisting her husband's suicide. The autopsy showed his last meal was orange juice and crackers. Her fingerprints were on the glass."

"She thought she was doing the right thing; didn't even try to cover up. I'll tell you what I find."

She grabbed her jacket and her side-arm. "Will you?" He asked with cynicism.

 _6.27pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst_

Even though she woke up to a large moving truck the previous Sunday, and Paul and his frat brother made sure she didn't have to life anything, Monique dragged out handing over her keys and picking up the last of her things until the last drop. In her arms was the last of her boxes; random stuff she'd left lying around so she'd have to go back. Taylor still hadn't decided if he really liked her of if he was just going with it because there was nothing he could do about it.

"What'd you mean you already applied?" Taylor asked, dreading going back to the three applications he was juggling at the same time.

"Early Action. Georgetown's program isn't binding like Columbia's." Isabella replied, casually. Humidity and rain had done a number on her hair, which was poking through the clips, but he liked it that way.

"Huh?"

"If Columbia accepts me on Early Decision I _have_ to take the place, but Georgetown wouldn't make me I sent my app in already." He was staring at her again, not with longing this time but with inadequacy. "What? You've got time."

His head was hurting. He couldn't admit it but he was having tension headaches every day and she was making them worse. "You want help?" He asked Monique, happy to stop talking about college.

"No, it's not heavy. Just a few CDs, books, DVDs. I think _Girls Town_ 's in there if you're interested. Oh, and _Restaurant_. This made me _love_ Adrian Brody. I used to watch it all the time." She was trying to be nice but soon realised three's a crowd and she was cramping his style. "Anyway, I've got a session tonight so, I'll see you later."

"Later." Taylor hadn't figured her out yet. He knew she was smart which put her 1000 points ahead of Tracey, but the fact she was ten years his senior was pretty embarrassing. Or maybe it was his Dad, who had told him a number of times to always use a condom. But she was nice and deep down he believed good things should happen to good people.

"She's not happy." Bella said off-the-cuff, as soon as she was out of earshot, while flicking through Brian Friel's _Translations_. "I still can't figure out if Yolland was murdered or not."

That was her habit; talking in non sequitur like a toned-down, bookworm Nicki Minaj. "He was. That guy did it. The guy who was in love with Marie or Maire or whatever. What'd you mean?"

"I can't find evidence to sup-"

"Not the book."

"It's a play." She said, just to annoy him. He'd never call her Latin Hermione to her face, but he understood why they said it behind her back.

"I meant Monique." He clarified.

"She's miserable. Okay, maybe that's a bit dramatic. She's sad. Maybe because she pregnant."

"Why would she be sad because she's pregnant?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. My mom was sad when she was pregnant with me but, then again she was a senior and it was a really small town where everyone knew all about it so…" She had to stop herself rambling, another habit. "Maybe I'm wrong and she's fine. I hope so anyway."

Neither of them knew what to say to that. He flicked through his text messages. "C.J.'s having a thing on Saturday. Wanna come?"

She shook her head. She couldn't find a diplomatic way to say she couldn't stand C.J and only tolerated him because he was Taylor's friend. So she lied. "Can't. It's my cousin's 1st birthday party and my mom said I'd play _Yo me rindo a El_ again."

"What?"

" _I surrender all_."

"Oh. Wanna see _Dracula Untold_ at the Brick on Sunday?"

She'd never heard of the Brick, but played along anyway. "Sure. Gotta go, before Javi sets the house on fire or something. Hi, Mr Carter."

Taylor was surprised his Dad was that light-footed and standing behind him, watching them. "I've told you, you can call me Paul."

She smiled because she wasn't going to. _Ever_. There was something so awkward about being around him that she couldn't get out quick enough. "Later Taylor, bye Mr Carter."

"Bye, Isabella." Paul said, cheerily.

"Dad," He groaned after she left.

"What?" Paul asked, obliviously. "Taylor, what's the problem?"

"Nothing."

"Did I miss Monique? 'Cause I got her vitamins."

"Yeah she left already." He was stuffing books into his backpack. She'd left _Translations_ behind.

Paul sat down at the table. Now he couldn't leave. "Is that it? That she moved in?"

"No."

"Cause if it is-" _It's not_. "It's gonna take some getting used to, but we can make it work. All of us. Hey, if we leave now I can show you the one-legged deadlift-"

"I've got homework." Paul backed off.

 _Thursday 30th October, 8.10pm, Joss' apartment_

Although her quads and glutes were in need of a serious Epson salt bath and she was moving slower than usual, Joss was happy to come home to the sight of Taylor at the kitchen island, with his headphones on. She tried not to take it personal that he was blowing her off more than ever, but it bothered her because she was losing him sooner that she had or wanted to. "Long day?" She asked, pouring two half-glasses of juice.

"Yeah."

"You okay?"

"Just a headache."

"It's stress. I know it's a lot right now, but hang in there." She saw so much of herself in him, and it scared her, because it meant she was turning into her father.

"I'm trying."

"I know you are. A problem shared's a problem halved," She hinted, handing him a juice.

"Why does Dad try to act cool when he's not?"

She smiled with abut ten answers, none of them appropriate for her son. "Why'd you think he does?"

"She's never gonna call him Paul. Why would she do that?" She smiled again, not only did that come out of nowhere but this girl had him tripping like Naomi Campbell in Vivienne Westwood ballet shoes. "And I wish he would stop going on and on and _on_ about Hampton, I get it, he didn't get in-"

"He did get in." She corrected him. "He couldn't go."

"That's not what he said."

"Milton's a State school and he got a scholarship so," She let the truth sink in, that he didn't know everything. "How's Monique doing?"

"Okay I guess."

"Be kind to her, Tay."

"I am."

"Not nice, kind. She'll need it."

He didn't know what she means but agrees anyway. "Okay." He watched her limp to the fridge. "Are you okay, Ma?"

"Of course. Just work, as usual. But I'm fine and I don't want you to worry about me. And John's sorry about the gun thing, it's just his way, he didn't mean any harm."

It was easier to say with her back to him. "I've been thinking about it and I wanna learn."

"How to shoot a gun?" She put the leftover sandwich meat and cheese on the island. He nodded. "I don't know how I feel about that." It would be hypocritical to say no, when she'd seen her father hunt and shoot bottle caps for fun from a young age. But placing a gun in her son's hand was a daunting thought, even a toy gun, or Skittles. If things were different, she would've sent him to his father. But she couldn't because even after all this time neither of them were 100% sure it wouldn't set him off. "How about you sleep on it for a week and if you're still interested we'll talk?"

"Cool."


	40. Chapter 40

_A/N: I used to watch Recess on Saturday mornings - FYI Fusco's Mikey and Bear's Vince #90sKids  
_

 _The Body Count Epilogue will be here over the holidays, my mind is running with dialogue right now._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _A week later, Friday 7th November, 5.20pm, Downtown Manhattan_

 _"I know it's out of line but there's no-one else I can ask."_ John had told her countless times if she asked him for help with anything she would do it, but this one was huge, even for him; she entrusted her son to him in the strangest way.

 _So you wanna learn to shoot a gun?_ That sounded corny and stupid coming out of his own mouth, let alone to a teenager, so he never said it. Instead, he delivered the gun safety talk in bullet points; always treat a firearm as though it's fully loaded, point it away from non-targets, keep your fingers off the trigger, don't load if you're not ready to shoot... Surprisingly, Taylor was still with him when he went into a diatribe about gun range etiquette and assholes who leave tons of ammo open all over their benches.

He wasn't able to hide his disappointment when he opened the box of red bullets. "What are these?" He asked, inspecting one in the palm of his hand.

John tried to break the news gently. And failed. "I promised I'd start you off on wax. Hey, between us, that's what they do in the military. Non-lethal training ammunition. Crawl before you walk." Taylor brightened up somewhat, only because he believed him. "This is a Ruger revolver. It's called a revolver because the wheels on the bus go round and round."

Taylor couldn't help but smile. "So corny."

"Oh, and here." He gave him a purple Washington Huskies baseball cap to set off the ear muffs and safety glasses. "Now we're corny, and matching." He felt some type of way seeing him adjust it, but he didn't know what. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

 _5.50pm,_ _Burn Astoria Gym,_ _Astoria, Queens_

As a trained kinesiologist, Monique was aware that the root of illness wasn't in the body as much as in the mind. The various techniques she'd studied alerted her to the way stress wreaked havoc on the body and manifested itself in headaches, muscle pain and inflexibility. She liked to think of herself as flexible, emotionally speaking, because where life had made her bend and sway she was still standing. During her Spin class she'd noticed a tattoo on Keith Leist's right quadricep, just below his cycling short and tried not to stare. Keith already got the wrong idea a few months before, when he confused her guiding his hips toward the floor for a better plank as wanting to go out with him. She knew she'd seen that eagle before, but colourless and without the American flag behind it. A few minutes later she knew where; it was on Paul's left shoulder, usually covered by a t-shirt.

She tried to be discreet and approach Keith casually after the class, commenting on his low water intake. He smiled at her in a condescending fashion. "That's nothing, try hiking in wet desert sand in 40 pound BDU, then tell me to drink more water."

"Wet sand."

He slapped his thigh. "Iraq. Three tours. Would've been four but the wife wouldn't have it."

"Ahhh." Was all she could say.

Her manager, Ron Johnson, sauntered over. As rumour had it, he squandered his father's first-generational wealth and drifted from one get-rich-quick scheme to the next until he lucked out on a business loan for his own franchise Burn Gym. It wasn't the money spinner he dreamed of but at least he could hear "Hillman's Finest" and not think of it as a personal jab. "Is everything alright here?" He asked, thinking those rumours about Monique being pregnant were true even if her body didn't show it.

"Fine. Keith was just schooling me on desert hydration."

 _6.35pm, Downtown Manhattan_

Considering he didn't have any expectations, John was surprised to find Taylor had talent. Scary talent. Working up to 45% accuracy with an hour, he suspected it was in his blood.

"I think I've had enough." Taylor announced as soon as he was getting good. John suspected it was because he didn't want to hurt anyone, when the truth was he was exhilarated by the experience and that scared him. Shooting a gun, even with wax bullets, gave him more adrenaline than beating Liberty Grammar School in a 4-2 upset or making out with Isabella before her parents came home. And that scared him because he didn't know what enjoying something so destructive and dangerous said about him. Back when he was a Grunt, John had a reputation as a loose cannon shooting everything in sight, including bottles filled with paint, so naturally he had a rep as someone not to be messed with. Taylor had discipline, and in his eyes; that was something to be feared. They packed up in silence.

"We don't have to come back. It's up to you." John said, to let him off the hook.

"Can I think about it?"

"Sure."

"Is it normal to like it and kinda hate it at the same time?"

John nodded. "It means you have a conscience."

And like clockwork, Finch called. John gave him one-word answers and knew it was time to clock-in.

"Was that the guy with the glasses?" Taylor asked in the car.

"His name's Harold." He replied, hoping if he gave him a crumb he wouldn't chase the loaf anymore. "Think of him as a godfather. I do."

"Thanks."

John still wasn't able to accept it, so he played it off. "Keep the hat. They're better than the team you like." He turned on the radio, _Toto_ was singing about Rosanna. "I'll drop you off on Lafayette, take a shower. Residue."

He turned down the radio and asked two questions that had been on his mind for a year. "Did Ma really shoot that guy that shot her? Or was that you?"

" _She_ did. Like a G." Taylor nodded and turned the radio up.

 _9.23pm, Paul's house, Elmhurst_

Monique couldn't bite her tongue when she got home, she came through the door like a tornado interrupting the Norman Lear marathon on TV. "Why didn't you tell me you were in the Army?"

Paul paused the heart-to-heart between good-girl Thelma and pregnant Henrietta on _Good Times_ and exhaled. "It was never the right time. Sit down."

"No." She planted her feet on the ground and seemed to grow taller. "How could you not tell me something like that? That's like having a kid. Or a wife. Or a record. Or bad credit!"

"You'll feel better if you sit down." He repeated something Susan said to him four years ago, when the work on triggers had him so worked up he was pacing the room.

She sat on the army of the lounge chair as a mock compromise. The wide space on the couch next to him was empty. "You've met my kid, and my ex. I don't have a record and my credit's just fine. I don't _like_ to talk about it and I don't _want_ to talk about it. So I didn't tell you. And I apologise."

"That's not good enough. You want me to have a baby for you but you don't tell me the truth."

"I didn't lie."

"No, you told me just enough truth to keep me hanging on."

"You're hurt."

"Ya think?"

"I don't know what else to tell you."

"Is that why you see Susan?"

"Back off, Monique."

"Is she an Army shrink?"

"Back. Off. We'll talk tomorrow." He put Thelma and Henrietta back on play and continued eating the microwave popcorn she was convinced was full of carcinogens. It didn't taste the same.

 _9.30pm, 8th Precinct_

Joss was looking forward to her first Saturday off in too long when Fusco shot it down. From the look on his face and folder in his hand she assumed the DA had thrown the book at Shavonne Wallace and charged the sixteen-year-old with first degree manslaughter instead of second degree like her mother was hoping for, but she was way off base.

"They're still deciding; on one hand Shavonne's never been in trouble but she still fled the scene." He wasn't saying anything she didn't already know. Until he dropped the next bombshell. "Xalvador Quiroga died at 9.19pm. It's ours." She felt sucker-punched in the chest and knew this was going nowhere good.

 _10.02pm, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

Fusco couldn't remember the last time he'd seen John not wearing a suit. The white t-shirt, blue jeans and baseball cap made him T.J. in this live action reunion of the cast of _Recess_.

"We've been monitoring Quiroga's condition for some time and it became critical this morning." Finch a.k.a. Guss informed them. There were seven pictures on the pinboard with a red X through Quiroga's portrait. "There a six potential victims or perpetrators still alive as of three minutes ago."

"So we're splitting up, right? To increase our chances of saving them." Joss' head was in strategic planning Gretchen mode.

Shaw was already tossing guns into a bag. "I'll go alone." She put on a brown leather jacket.

"You? Alone? Better add some more numbers." Fusco replied cynically. Shaw took it as a compliment and smiled.

John unlocked the gate, Leon was standing behind. "We'll need you too. Getaway driver."

Shaw whistled and Bear came running. "You too, Champ. I'm with Carter. You babysit the two stooges." She looked from Fusco to Leon and back again and rubbed Bear's head. "If you have to, save the one with more meat." John was already out the door before anyone noticed.


	41. Chapter 41

_A/N: Merry Christmas, Happy Kwanzaa and season's greetings to everyone. This is for_ **SWWoman** _who really wanted the case from Body Count Ch 52 - hopefully this will suffice.  
_

 _For_ **Kiki** _, Dwayne, Kim, Whitley, Gina and Freddie are in chapters 40-42 of Body Count, #ADWStansUnite #911EmergencyReconnecttheCommunity_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Friday 7th November, 10.30pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

Evelyn Taylor was the kind of woman who prided herself on noticing the small changes in her loved ones. So of course she noticed the purple baseball cap on her grandson's head, for a team she had never heard of. And of course, she noticed the conflict in his eyes when he arrived unannounced. Her partner, Gregory, was a good man but a military man he was not. A staunch pacifist from a small West Indian island, he didn't understand why people used violence to settle conflicts and used weapons for a sense of security. Which was why they were having their conversation behind the closed door of his room.

"So you've got it in you too?" She asked, thrilled by the fact that he shared even more similarities with her late husband than his looks. Taylor nodded, because he knew if he wasn't holding back and John wasn't watching, he'd probably shoot much better. "It's in your blood, baby. Joe used to say, ' _it's not the gun, it's the man behind it_.' So you have nothing to fear."

"It just…feels so weird."

"Mmm-hmm, you're feeling so many things at once you can't put a name on it, and that's okay. We'll talk about it. But you cannot tell your father."

"Because he'll snap?"

"There's that and,"

"He hates John 'cause he's with mom and he's white?"

"He hates John 'cause he _exists_. His _ego's_ bruised because he's white. Not that it matters."

"I don't get it."

"Tay, some people are incapable of loving people the way they need to be loved. So it gets under their skin when someone else can. And does. But as long as John keeps loving her like she needs to be loved, he's alright with me. And in time that'll be enough for you too."

"Maybe."

She smiled at his stubbornness as though she had no idea where it came from. "That's right; you set the bar high. But remember that your trip to the range today was proof."

"How?"

"Do you think she really wants you out here shooting guns with everything that's going on in the world, and on our doorstep?" He didn't have to watch the news to know what she was talking about; he had Twitter. "But instead of denying you, she asked someone she trusts for help. And he did it. It's been _too_ long since someone stepped up for her. That wasn't you or me. Anyway, how's that pretty girl we saw you with downtown? Following her around like a little puppy,"

"Gram…"

 _10.47pm, The Pink Feather Gentleman's Club, Linden Boulevard, South Jamaica, Queens_

Joss didn't know if she was working with Shaw or Nina, either way it was surprisingly easy. After they agreed to take a pre-emptive approach to the threats to Tomas "Sugarman" Salazar and Raul "Redman" Rojas and knock them out with Shaw's tranquilizer gun, they played the waiting game with a heat sensor app in hopes of finding out if they were the hunters or the hunted. Two sedated gangsters, mid-level Soreňos whose loyalty to Quiroga was in question, were slumped over two black chairs in the Champagne room.

"This is nice." Shaw said uncharacteristically. "Two friends with guns, talking, waiting to blast someone in the face."

"You missed out _pretending to be strippers_. I told you Crystal and Galore would bounce for a cool grand each."

Shaw was full of questions and ammo. "How'd you know they'd come to a private party?"

Joss smiled, and it made her feel tingly. "Sugarman got popped selling X to kids around here about two years ago, someone told me he brought salvia to the city."

Shaw's skills of deduction didn't go amiss, even with a few jelly shots in her system. "You got a thing for guys in uniforms, Carter?"

"Just fine ones. I know it sounds cliché but I like the idea of a man who can protect me, even though I don't need it."

"But you were in uniform, too." Shaw relished the thought.

"It's not the same. At least, that's what Paul used to say; because I wasn't engaged in combat. What he never realised was the war was in my mind."

Shaw wasn't equipped for this level of empathy so she switched gears with a shiny distraction. "Karma."

Joss surveyed the heat imagery from the security camera feeds on the tablet. She made out a body, approximately 6 feet tall. "That's not Karma, she's slimmer than that."

"I was talking about Johnny Boy, going after the Norteňo lieutenant, Cruz Valverde. It makes sense the big girl is after the top girl."

Joss got the sense in other settings, Shaw was always the top girl.

 _11.01pm, Jamaica Hills, Queens._

With Leon Tao riding shotgun and making that irritating Russian Roulette sound with the revolver, three low-level runners to hunt down, and Bear in the back seat for back up, Fusco felt he got short-changed and had no problem telling Finch so over the Bluetooth in his car. "I'd like to remind you, Detective Fusco, you have the most manpower. Bear's bite force is 224 pounds."

"What'd you call Sticky Fingers here? A bonus prize?"

"I believe getting shot in the posterior equates to the true short end of the stick, now if you don't mind I seem to have lost track of Mr Reese."

 _11.33pm, The Pink Feather Gentleman's Club, Linden Boulevard, South Jamaica, Queens_

"Anthony?" Joss asked in bewilderment when the red and yellow body on the screen took the form of Elias' right hand man with a silencer in each hand. Shaw had heard of Scarface and was more interested in seeing the scar up close and personal than his unimpressive reputation. She could never understand why anyone would take pride in being someone's bitch over striking out on their own. And so she fired the first shot of the night, into his right arm.

"That wasn't the plan." Joss reminded her, still impressed by how accurate her aim was. "You missed his brachial artery." She commented, retrieving the silencers and putting pressure on the wound.

Shaw shrugged her shoulders. "Just wanted to make sure he was listening when you gave him his options."

At that point, she had no idea who was playing good cop or bad cop anymore. "One, take us to the new base of operations. I want to see Elias, tonight. Or two, I cuff your ass and take you to the Precinct, leaving your cell for these guys to find."

"What's the third option?" Scarface replied, not only accustomed to the pain but enjoying it.

"We drive you to Calvary Cemetery and empty off whatever you had for these clowns."

 _Saturday 7th November, 12.10am, Paul's house, Elmhurst._

For all his marital shortcomings, Paul remembered the wise words of an aunt who was long since gone. " _Don't go to bed mad._ " Back in the day, his solution to that was not to go to bed at all. He would stay up all night, or head out somewhere he wouldn't have to talk. But these days were different; Susan brought him to the realisation that although avoiding conflict was a means of survival during childhood, it was destructive to relationships. So ten minutes off the Norman Lear marathon ending, he went upstairs to face his fate. It was technically tomorrow, a fact not lost on Monique who was sitting on top of the covers.

"I feel like, my whole life, people lied to me. So much so that eventually I let them. You can't lie to me and think it's okay with me 'cause it's not. Why'd you want this baby, Paul? And don't give me some pro-life B.S. 'cause I don't wanna hear it."

He scratched his neck to buy time. "It's my second chance to do it right."

She thought about his answer. From her perspective his relationship with Joss was better than most divorced people, so she hadn't figured out what it was that didn't work between them. That, and he hadn't told her yet. "I see."

He sat on the edge of the bed. "I always wanted a daughter. Don't get me wrong, I wanted a son, but I thought it would be nice to have a little girl in a peach nursery like the one we did for LeLee."

"Tony's daughter?"

"Yeah. But she makes us call her Leyanna now. Anyway, I'm gonna take a shower."

 _12.16am, Lowell Ave, New Hyde Park._

Always competent, Scarface insisted they switched cars twice on the way to the commercial warehouse. Joss understood how he was able to hide within the system as a cop because he was surprisingly methodical. He also exercised the 5th Amendment. As soon as they got him out of the pick-up truck, Joss could hear the Rottweilers growling behind the gate.

"Fix this." Joss told him, thinking that her boots were too nice to be in the mouth of a wild dog.

"5-7-2-1-4. Star." He replied, as he couldn't enter the security code in handcuffs.

 _12.22pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

Taylor couldn't sleep even though he knew he'd be training first thing that morning. The only people still online were Isabella and that weird kid Elliott from school with no social skills and an extensive knowledge of all things aeroplanes. He figured everyone was at C.J.'s again, as his mom was out of town and his dad was M.I.A.

"What's up?" She asked, twisting her hair until it looked like ropes.

"Nothing. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Shopping; Yessy wants me to help her find another dress for her birthday party. Oh, and rehearsing for my audition. Why?"

"It doesn't matter. What audition?"

"Bach's Christmas Oratorio at the New Brooklyn Theater. Part 2 has two flutes."

"Cool." She knew he didn't care about classical music but the portrait of Bach in a durag he sent her, #2Bach, still cracked her up. "So you're busy. Real busy?"

She smiled and thought it was a good time to break the news. It really wasn't. "My dad doesn't want me to go out with you."

"What?"

"I kinda promised not to date anyone this year-"

"Why?"

"I thought it would be easy at the time." What she neglected to say was she spent the summer crying over an all-state basketball player with three other girlfriends, who dumped her unceremoniously by text, and left for GWU without even chucking up the deuces. It was 10 days since she last checked his Instagram. _D-bag of the decade_. "So now he's getting all crazy, and thinks I'm gonna end up blaming you twenty years later 'cause my life didn't turn out like I planned. My uncle tried to talk to him but by then Catana gave birth to a child."

"What?"

" _Éramos pocos y parió Catana_. It went from bad to worse. It doesn't translate well." She explained. "When he calms down-"

"I'll talk to him." It wasn't so much a suggestion as a decision.

"I was gonna say I'd get Mom to twist his arm but hey, maybe that'll work. Or he'll just kill you. Either way, that's really sweet."

That non sequitur never failed…arm…kill…sweet. Yep, he wasn't letting her go anytime soon.

 _12.27am, Lowell Ave, New Hyde Park._

Shaw couldn't help but noticed the stacks of light wooden wine boxes from Italy. She didn't know Elias had offered Carter wine on numerous occasions or that he had serious intentions on adding wine distribution to his business portfolio. Even that would be felonious, as he was a fugitive and all. The familiar face wasn't lost on her either. Araceli Fuentes was cutting a deck of cards, the teardrop tattoo at the corner of her eye and her cropped, short on the sides, long at the top, haircut made her unmissable. The last time she and Shaw were in the same room a roundhouse kick sent her to the floor and she lost her steel baseball bat.

"Anthony, you should've said we had company. Chef would've prepared something."

"What's on the menu?" Joss asked, because it was part of their banter.

"Veal Milanese with arugula."

"Sounds appetising." She uncuffed Scarface as an act of faith and he poured her a glass even though she wouldn't drink it. Shaw thought they were having some sick exchange that only made sense if it was a cable blue movie.

"I've missed this."

"I haven't." Joss replied.

"Nature abhors a vacuum, Detective." He reminded her of their special talk in Rhode Island.

Shaw's boredom was showing; she'd taken to pointing out the obvious. "So no guesses for whose payroll she's on."

Araceli was good at playing calm, just like she did before that gun incident in her 5th grade classroom. "Every organisation has resources. Ms Fuentes has a special skill set. As do you, and your friend here. You keep surprising me. I didn't expect you'd bring handcuffs and no tangible back-up." "It's bedlam, Elias. The Russians, the Mexicans, the Colombians, Norteňos, Soreňos. The infighting, the random shootings; it's out of control. You can make it stop. And you will."

"Because?"

"Because my friend here, with the background in science, will take your associate and teach her aerodynamics. What are we? Three storeys high?"

He smiled. "You know they never believe me when I say you're more Malcolm than Martin."

"Believe me when I say you're slipping. Keep trying to get caught and you will. And it won't be Rikers."

He cleaned his glasses on his sweater. "Always a pleasure, Detective."

"One more thing. I'm arresting Araceli Fuentes for the aggravated assault and murder of Xalvador Quiroga." Joss proceeded to read her the Miranda rights. "You took something from me, Elias. So I'm taking something from you."

"And what if I said you couldn't leave with my associate?"

"Then I'd ask you if that's a bullet in Anthony's arm or a chip with this location. He should get that looked at."

When given the option of saving Araceli or his right-man for decades the choice was easy and the handcuffs came in handy. Elias wiped the corners of his mouth. "Those charges won't stick."

"They will when they find her DNA on the murder weapon. She shouldn't have left that baseball bat behind."

"What baseball bat?" Araceli looked away.

"Someone's been moonlighting for the Mexicans." Shaw filled him in, happy to see some of his smugness wash away.

"Order, Elias." Joss stated, reminding him of the very principle he valorised.

"Thank you for returning Anthony to me in one piece." His politeness made her sick.

 _1.01am, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

Finch wasn't used to visitors, even the Jehovah's witnesses knew not to come to his front door. But for anyone to ring his bell at the most unsociable hour, it had to be an emergency. Sweaty Leon's shirt was covered in blood around his abdomen, not because he had been shot but because he had tried to stem the blood flow live they did on TV and made a mess. The getaway driver had done his job, in part at least. "We're gonna need a medic."

"A doctor?" Finch asked.

"A vet."


	42. Chapter 42

_A/N: This ties in directly to Chapter 49 of Body Count because Carter and Shaw should've had a LOT more scenes of badassness and boss-bitchcraft in the show._

 _For_ **QueenJessicaPearson, Jhill88, SWWoman adnd Killer Mike's Biggest Fan**

 _And yes the Body Count Epilogue is coming - it's mapped out I promise._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 7th November,_ _1.03am, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

The sedan was parked with such urgency, Leon climbed the sidewalk. Finch found Bear's pulse in the back seat and tried to comfort him with words. "Where's Detective Fusco?"

"At the Precinct with the guy who shot the dog. We took the other two out. Well, he did but I was there." Leon wasn't used to being on this side of the game.

"You mean the _animal_ who shot Bear. Here." He gave him a smartphone. "Find a 3rd or 4th year veterinary medicine student in the city who's recently updated their social media. Preferably one who hasn't consumed alcohol."

"You want me to do that now, here?"

"Pretend you're going to scam them. Does that heighten your sense of urgency?"

 _3.10am, 8th Precinct_

Since the coffee machine at the Precinct was on the fritz, and Fusco felt vindicated by his suspicions around Elias and Quiroga being proven, he wrapped up the night with his partner eating other people's leftovers out of the break room fridge because no-one was around beside the dispatchers. With Araceli and the animal who shot Bear in holding, there was nothing left to do but hope for Bear's recovery. "I got Kowalski's Pierogi, Chambers' Chinese and Thorpe's potato chips. That's his own stupid fault for leaving 'em on his desk."

"And they just _happen_ to be the most anal officers at the Precinct, huh?" Joss laughed and stretched her back in her chair. She had no desire to tell him how she and Shaw spent the evening and with whom but she couldn't stop him from speculating further.

"I think he took a page outta your book."

"Huh?" Joss asked, thinking Pierogi was better to eat hot.

"The Big Show." Joss' avid viewership especially during The Attitude Era made it easy to understand he was talking about Elias again. "He's taking control of different territories by pitting them against each other when it's all him. Moving them around like-"

"Pieces on a chessboard." Joss made a painful discovery about Cruz and the man after her. She had to stop him, so she fished around the false bottom in her drawer for a burner phone and tried to reach Finch to no avail. Little did she know he was watching Tasha Coates, a 3rd year Vet Medicine student at NYU, cleaning the bullet wound in Bear's chest in the bathtub of her off-campus apartment, for the student loan-busting sum of $100,000.

"What's wrong?" Fusco asked.

"Number 6. What if the Machine detected John as a threat to her? Or what if she thinks he's gonna take her out like what happened to Quiroga?"

He understood why she was in a panic. "Then that's bad news for our guy. Real bad news."

"What should I do?"

"Nothing. You show up, she'll know you're a cop. You call him, she'll think it's a set-up. Go home, Carter. Wait it out." He knew he should say something less gloomy. "Maybe Sporty Spice can wait it out with you. You're the only one she's nice to, who walks on two legs."

 _4.07am, Origami Bar, Kensington_

It was only when several men offered to buy her a drink that Joss realised she was well and truly out of the dating game; taken, off-the-market, boo'ed up, locked down, _clink, clink_. Sex too good had her giving the side eye to men with straight leg jeans and tribal tattoos and checking her phone every five minutes because no-one had heard from John since he slipped out quietly six hours ago. _Slick ass_. It was some consolation to their bruised egos when she was spotted with a woman who resembled Lara Croft, because after all what man could compete with the Tomb Raider herself?

 _5.16am, Joss' apartment_

Chasing down tequila with sushi should've made Joss a lot more relaxed. Or so Shaw thought. Instead she wanted to continue drinking Cognac and diet coke and talk about John like they were in a sorority house or something. _Sigma Gamma Puke_.

"…And I hate the idea of John doing his dirty work." Shaw stared off into space and Joss knew she had reached her empathy quota for the year. "How's that guy? The one who looks like Liev Schreiber."

"Oh, Todd. It's Liam Neeson."

Joss opened a bag of potato chips. "Then I can stop being jealous then 'cause that Liev is a _bad_ MF."

Even Shaw couldn't argue with that. "As for Todd: _snooze_."

Joss was intrigued. "Snooze as in…"

"One speed, can't take notes, no rhythm and all that panting." Fusco was right, there was no-one better to pass the time with.

 _10.07am,_ _Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

Taylor couldn't make it out of bed much less to the gym when he woke up with a fever. He had the dream where his teeth fell out again. This time, he tried to put them back in but they wouldn't stick. The upside to waking up late was reading Bella's live texts of the Saturday Orchestra practice.

\- Mr Correia needs deodorant. Bad. #SweatPatch

\- And he's doing the Mahler thing again #Baton #TwirlwiththeWindFabulous

\- The violas are off-key…again

\- Michiko's killing O come, O come, Emmanuel #Allthefeels

\- Tarell just played Jingle Bells on the double bass #classic

\- Everyone wants you to do the lights again

\- This new guy sucks

\- Gotta go

"Hey youngblood. You missed breakfast." Gregory greeted. He was reloading the crate of score sheets with percussion. "It's Brazilian Day at the Community Center. You seen the afoxé?"

"What does it look like?"

"A round shaker with beads on it." He shook his head. "Never mind, it's probably in the car. You alright? You don't look too good."

"I'm okay."

"Okay is not a feeling. Not-okay is a feeling." Taylor was used to his funny sayings. Gregory was used to his teenagerism as he called it; even though his four children were all in their thirties and forties with kids of their own. "Anyway they're gonna have food and dance and masquerade so you should come down later."

Evelyn tried to discreetly get rid of the green juice he made but he had a habit of watching her from the corner of his eye so she downed it with a pinched nose. "And bring your little girlfriend with you. Isn't she from Brazil?"

"Cuba."

Taylor could've bit his own tongue when a smile broke across her face at Gregory. "See, I told you, Greg. Works every time. I, for one, would _love_ to meet her-"

"Take your time, Taylor." Gregory advised, for the sake of their relationship. "Let's go, the kids start coming in at 11."

"I am an _excellent_ judge of character." Evelyn announced as Gregory gently pulled her away by the hand. "And I'm nice. Very nice."

Gregory's eyes said he tried. Taylor's eyes said she couldn't be stopped.

 _12.01pm, The Big Azz Gun Club, Port Morris, Bronx_

Joss thought she was familiar with most of the gun ranges in the city but this Member's Only club was brand new. After refusing to go to early morning Muay Thai with her houseguest, she was surprised that Shaw already had a fake ID for her. "Cleopatra Sims?"

Shaw's jacket had more pockets on the inside. "Oh, that's mine. Here's yours."

"Francesca Sutton."

"He's gonna call you Frankie anyway. Now when we get in there, don't look him in the eye. Just say you wanna set it off and pay the wall replacement fee. Then he'll give us the Uzis."

"Cool."

Shaw felt tingly again. "This is the stuff dreams are made of." Carter didn't bother asking what kind.

 _1.34pm, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village, New York_

Finch didn't want to leave Bear at the University Animal Hospital but he had no choice. While Tasha had kept the wound clean, she didn't have the tools to operate and refused to until Bear had undergone a full x-ray. He trusted the qualified vets to remove the bullet from under the skin but that didn't mean he felt any better since his circle of loved ones was so small. Also, John had passed the 14-hour mark of being off the grid and he was concerned. John last known location was Highland Park in Glendale where he tossed his cellphone. The only thing he could do was sit back in his armchair with a mug of Sencha green tea and play chess until a new number came up or John resurfaced, while wishing for the latter.


	43. Chapter 43

_A/N: Off to write the Body Count Epilogue :)  
_

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 7th November, 8.47am, Joss' apartment_

It only took one day for to convince Joss she couldn't keep up with Shaw if she tried. Shooting off a dozen rounds was one thing, but she wasn't cut out for the arm-wrestling, bar crawling or the street fireworks. Besides she was still a cop and a mom, and there was only one number that came up the previous afternoon; John's. John Friel, the ex-con, to be exact. With Finch distraught and unable to communicate by phone, Fusco out at the arcade with Lee, and Shaw out somewhere doing something antisocial, she had no choice but to wait for him to resurface. From the top of the stairs she could smell turkey bacon and toast and thought Taylor was still capable of surprising her. From the other side of the door she recognised the buttery scrambled eggs. What she couldn't fathom was, who was this man talking to her son?

"…Wear a shirt with a collar or they'll think you don't care." John advised. "And shoes, not sneakers."

"Anything else?"

"And get something for her mom."

"Like what?"

"Well, what does she do?"

"She's a Paramedic."

"Get her something she could use."

"Like…a coffee gift card?"

"That works, as long as she likes coffee."

"What about her dad?"

"That's his daughter; he's gonna hate you regardless. But if you like her, you'll take it. Eventually they'll like you though."

"How'd you know that?"

"At your age I wouldn't've made it to the front door."

"Why? Bad rep?"

"Ankle bracelet." Taylor didn't know if he was joking or not and he never found out because Joss grew tired of eavesdropping and was more than a bit jealous John knew about it before she did. Fear struck her heart that she was losing him even faster than she realised. Faster that she could stand. "Morning." She greeted.

"Morning," John replied, scraping half the scrambled eggs onto the counter because he was looking her up and down.

Taylor felt less like the third wheel and more like he didn't want to see it. "I'll eat in the living room." Again, it was a decision, not a suggestion.

She was relieved to see him in the flesh. And one piece. With all his limbs intact. And no visible cuts or bullet wounds. "John." She hugged him, subconsciously patting down his back. He smelt like soap; old-fashioned like the anti-septic sulfur soap they used in the Army. She rubbed his neck to comfort herself more than him. "Are you okay?"

"I've been better. You know, Taylor's got your shot. I was half-waiting for him to say, _not today_."

Even though it made her smile she knew all too well the lengths he'd go to to throw her off the scent. "John."

"196th." And with that she knew where local PD would find Cruz Valverde's cold body.

All she could do was hold him again. "Let's eat…off the counter." She elbowed him.

"Joss." He tried to explain but didn't have the words.

"Everything's gonna be alright. Do you understand me? I won't let anything happen to you. So let's eat."


	44. Chapter 44

_A/N: Hi guys, I'm all on the tablet so there's no proper formatting til next week. Hope everyone had a great New Year's!_

 _Thanks for reading the Body Count Epilogue and I hope you got closure and some laughs out of it too._

 _As always, enjoy x_

* * *

 _Saturday 7th November, 8.59am, Joss' apartment_

If there was one thing Joss loved about John it was how he treated her son as an important part of her life, not an extension or an accessory. Where Cal was awkward around Taylor but very nice, John was kind and genuinely knew him. And even though she was shut out from their guy talk and incomplete sentences, that was alright with her.

"He hesitates, but that's normal for his age. I can't even remember the first time I touched a gun let alone shot one."

"I'm glad you were there for him."

"Anytime. I'll do almost anything you'll ask me, but I don't know why you didn't ask Paul."

"It's complicated." She changed topic because she'd never told anyone outside family or counselling about his PTSD. "Since when were you a guru when it came to the ladies?" She asked, already feeling full from a scrambled egg sandwich.

"I'm a master at making mistakes with the ladies, there's a difference."

"It looks like you're doing pretty good from here, besides scaring me half to death. You should call Finch; he's been a mess since Bear stayed in the hospital overnight."

He realised how far out of the loop he was. "What happened?"

"One of those clockers shot him, but he's gonna be fine and they're in lockup." He knew she knew it would take iron bars to stop him from beating that clocker to a pulp. "On second thought, I'll call Finch. You look like you could use some R&R."

He could use some Joss. He knew she hadn't showered by the smell of her skin and he liked that. Taylor and his gym bag were gone by the time she led him upstairs, and the second step squeaked. Her room was different, less grey, and there was a new blue and lime green bedspread like she was trying to recreate a beach in the middle of a New York winter. Her closet had some burnt orange and purple in it and of course, royal blue. The wall at the back of the closet had a giant world map with pins on it, of where she'd been and where she'd like to go. "Antigua?" He asked.

"Yeah, a friend said I'd love it. Where'd you wanna go?"

"Somewhere I've never been." He ran his fingers under her chin. "Wherever you're going."

In her life Joss had had 5 lovers; 2 great loves, 1 could've been love and 2 never gonna be loves; Paul, obviously, because he was her first and they did the love, marriage and baby carriage thing 'til it all went pear-shaped, and John because he was John were in the former. Cal was lying peacefully in the ground and sadly for him, she did more for him after his passing than she did when they were together. Ricky and Devon were just guys in uniform she appointed as mechanics; they occupied her time when she was resolutely single and in need of a tune-up. But John was the greatest lover of them all because he matched her, they could be strong for each other, and she was finally understood. And the package was good too, the total package. He didn't just serve her between her thighs and leave her heart empty; the bed, or the car for that matter, was warmer with him in it because he was present. He gave his all, all he had to give her, and she was grateful for that.

Sex too good made John rethink living like a hermit. Whether it was the thing she did with the berries that tickled or that he was propped up on his forearms while she did all the work for once, and her hair flicked back onto his chest as she showed what squats and lunges could do. He wasn't going anywhere, not with the view of the black bird on her back on full display. Joss had converted him from a legs man to an ass man and there was no going back. He wasn't going anywhere if she kept on going.

There was a twitch in his leg when they clumsily spooned, catching a breath. "You never told me your favourite position, John."

"A lot." He replied, nibbling on her ear.

"That's not a position."

"I don't like to limit myself, so my favourite position is whatever I like at the time. Whatever you do when you let loose."  
"Are you saying I'm uptight?"  
He knew she was sensitive when it came to feedback in the sheets, and wished he knew how to speak his mind without making her feel she was doing something wrong. "I'm saying the gag reflex thing is all mental. But the thing with the berries was great, that grapefruit thing is so overrated." She would usually be embarrassed but considering what she just did with fruit, today was not the day for pride. "Now you tell me."  
"I can show you better than I can tell you but it needs water for buoyancy."  
"Like a bathtub?"  
"More room, a Jacuzzi's good. Anyway, maybe I'll muster up the Dutch courage to do it one day."

He kissed her forehead and hoped. "You gonna tell me about the gun thing? I'm only asking 'cause you seemed on edge about it and I don't like that. I get that you're cagey about your marriage and things that happened in your past, but I deserve to know especially if Taylor wants to come back to the range."

She tried to relax but her heart was racing. "Paul had a lot of problems when he came home. And when he wasn't bottling up his issues, he was lashing out at me. He used to do different things, strange things, like loading and unloading a gun at the table, or keeping watch 'til he fell asleep on the floor. I couldn't understand how damaged he was, I just wanted him to snap out of it and be the man we needed him to be. So when Taylor asked, I was worried because I don't want him to be the type of man who shoots a gun to let off steam or carries one out of fear."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"'Cause you and Paul were doing that chest-beating thing and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire. Besides, he's someone else's problem now and this is about my son. It's crazy, when I was standing at that door I realised he looks up to you. And not just in a badass MMA kinda way, but as a man, and that means a lot to me."

"He's still an asshole, Joss, and I don't like the way he treats you at all. I don't think you should carry his dead0 weight but that's your choice to make. And I think he's lucky to have a son like that considering his extreme asshole tendencies. But I'm here for you and Taylor and I can bite my tongue to keep the peace."

"You promise?"

"I never said I wouldn't slam the door in his face again 'cause he deserves it. And he better not show up here unannounced because you're my woman, all mine." He flipped her from her side to her stomach and pulled her legs around his waist.  
"I'm your woman…all yours…"


	45. Chapter 45

_A/N: Credit to Beenie Man and Chevelle Franklin.  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _A week later, Monday 17th November, 11.07am, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village_

Bringing Bear home gave Finch the feeling most people had bringing their firstborn from the hospital. Despite the muscle damage with some rest and daily physio he was set to make a full recovery, which was a relief because it wasn't the same without him. Even Shaw thought so as she complained about how he looked thinner and needed a fine cut of steak to get over his time in lockup.

"I'm touched that you care, Ms Shaw."

She ignored him and stared at the man behind the gate. "What are we gonna do with him?"

"Mr Tao is looking for a new property for us not to mention he's of some help in the field."

"What kind of place?" She asked, planning her room. Although she liked the loft, a swanky new place wouldn't go amiss either.

"10000 square feet, high ceilings, centrally located and discreet. We've outgrown this place."

The cogs were turning. "Hmmm, interesting."

 _11.40am, 8th Precinct_

After Captain Cameron's resignation due to accusations of his squad's excessive use of force, a permanent replacement was finally appointed. Joss felt there was something familiar about Capt. Vincent Miller but she had other things on her mind. Namely Lucas De Melle, criminal attorney to the wealthy, whose brand new dark grey Maserati Gran Turismo was parked across the street. So far he had spent an hour in discussions with Araceli Fuentes, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out why he was representing her pro bono when she had $28 in her bank account and $35000 in a mattress. Elias had bought her silence by posting bail.

"Even though some would consider it a setback, we have Araceli Fuentes, a body and a murder weapon, thanks to your exceptional work."

"Actually, it was Detective Fusco's awareness of gang activity in the area that led us to it."

"Don't be humble, Detective Carter, after all you phoned in the murder of Cruz Valverde. It's being treated as a related incident to an ongoing case at the 103rd Precinct." She smiled pleasantly, because she knew she had to get her eyes on that autopsy and ensure the body couldn't be linked to John. There was a way to access any file at the 103rd Precinct but she'd need back up to do it.

 _Tuesday 18th November, 4.25pm,_ _Downtown Manhattan_

Taylor thought a number of things when he met with John; one, how did he get in and out of the house without making a sound?, two, what was up with the cut on his lip?, and three, why was he loading the gun with real and wax bullets?

"So how'd dinner go with her folks?" John asked, readjusting his hat.

"It was pretty good. The food was great. You ever had a medianoche?"

"Can't say I have. And her parents?"

"Her mom's nice, uncle's pretty cool, she said her dad's grouchy but I don't think he was that bad." John's half-smile revealed he enjoyed borrowing Joss' son more than he imagined. "Was the ankle bracelet thing true?"

He shook his head. "They weren't out when I was your age. Lucky for me."

"So how come you loaded real and wax bullets?"

"You noticed?"

"I have peripheral vision." Taylor replied, sounding like the heir apparent to Detective Joss Carter.

"That you do. I want you to feel the difference. It'll help you focus and quiet your mind of all that chatter."

He raised an eyebrow. "Like college stuff?"

"Do you wanna go?"

"Yeah, it's just the apps that suck. And what Ma wants. And what Dad wants."

"What do _you_ want?"

"Honestly? I want everyone to shut up."

"Ready?"

Taylor took a long, considered breath. "Yeah. You think I could get as good as you?"

"How about you aim high and get as good as Shaw?"

 _11.04pm, Riddims Club, Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn_

 _"Hey-ey-ey-ow-owwwwww…"_

When Carter called, Shaw zipped up her studded boots, dusted off her old Nano and drove across town to meet her. The music thumped through the wall and red, yellow and green lights rotated around the bashment party. The words _daggering_ and _soursop_ meant nothing to Shaw who was sipping on a rum double when she caught Scarface in the middle of a Jamaican girl sandwich and slapped him for good measure in her role as the angry girlfriend.

 _"…She's a dancehall queen for life, gonna explode like dynamite. And she's movin' outta sight, and she go mash up da place like dynamite…"_

Scarface massaged his face at the bar. "Good to see you again, Carter. And your friend, the astronaut." He sneered.

"She's a surgeon." She corrected him while Shaw scowled. "I need something from you."

"We're always here to help, after all, Christmas came early for us. We might take a nice _cruz_ to the islands to celebrate."

Joss leaned into his ear. "I'll need the files. All of them. Tell him to enjoy the Cruz. I heard the seas are calm this time of year. No stormy weather."

 _11.27pm, Last Drop Coffee Shop, Lenox Hill, Upper East Side_

John struggled to remember the last time he saw Zoe, back when he was John Harrow, and he had since forgotten the facts and figures from _Surrealism for Dummies_. The reason he was with her was the man she was dating; a man whose number came up on The Machine that evening. The problem was, she mistook his line of questioning for interest.

"The last time we spoke you said you were with someone. How's it working out?" She asked, sipping her skinny latte with cynicism.

"It's good, I'm with Joss."

The news went down the wrong way. "Carter? Aren't you two on opposite sides of the law?" She looked away. "And the spectrum?"

He knew better than to ask what spectrum she was referring to, Joss' kink factor wasn't up for debate or comparison. "We're working it out."

"Good luck, John. Considering,"

"Considering what?"

"Your tendency to run. It's like a game of poker, fun while it lasts then on to the next thing."

He never knew she felt that way, in his mind they were just using each other for fun. The truth was there wasn't a chance for anything real to develop because it had always been so shallow. "I'll remember to call you."

"When?"

"When I need relationship advice."

She realised she'd given away more than she intended. "I didn't mean it like that. Anyway, if Hendrik's in trouble, it's nothing he did."

"We don't know that." The cappuccino was cold. "The du Toit family have origins in France, but they relocated to Kimberley, South Africa, in the 1890s and made a fortune in diamonds. Did he tell you that?"

"He's 6th generation, John. I don't care about his money."

 _Wednesday 18th November, 6.40am, Paul's House, Elmhurst_

The spare room had five different-coloured strokes of paint against the beige wall; three shades of peach, and two shades of yellow. Since she had been reading a book about PTSD and relationships, Paul thought it would be a good idea to get a start on their baby's nursery. "Peach, Coral, Crepe, Pineapple and Honey. The guy at the store said they're pretty popular and people are going for the whole gender-neutral thing."

Monique thought it was a sign that things were getting better even if she hated each shade worse than the last. Because he was trying. And if he was trying, that meant they were getting somewhere, right? _Right_. "I like sea green." She hinted. "And dolphins on the wall."

 _Friday 20th November, 8.13pm, The Lotus Restaurant, Midtown_

If John was just her driver, the ride to the restaurant opening would've gone a lot smoother, but Zoe was still annoyed he thought her boyfriend was up to no good.

"We're late." She stated, as if he was on her pay roll.

"Let's just focus on whether your boyfriend's trading blood diamonds or not."

"John, Hendrik is a good man. Shouldn't you guys be looking for whoever's trying to get him instead of _assuming_ -"

"He's a rich man and most rich people don't make their money trading candy. No offence, Finch."

"None taken." Finch replied over the Bluetooth. "Apologies for interrupting your riveting conversation, Mr Reese but there's an important new development at the entrance. 200ft from your current location." The car was gridlocked in traffic so John had no reason not to get out and run towards the entrance. Paparazzi cameras swarmed around Hendrik du Toit who was covered in red paint, and the protestor squirming on the floor from the sucker punch he landed in revenge. Even a half-naked socialite couldn't compete with the attention, especially when it became apparent the protester was a woman.

 _10.37pm, Finch's Townhouse, Greenwich Village_

It was an atypical Friday night between friends, instead of movies and pizza, Finch was hacking the Department of Forensic Biology's DNA records while Joss and Shaw cross referenced the 103rd Precinct's case records with murderers with similar M.O.s to John's who were still walking the street. Until then, Joss hadn't known he shot Cruz Valverde in the head or that they had a shootout involving 22 shell casings. One of the bullets was still lodged in a local car door. She hoped there weren't any witnesses, even though the surveillance tape had gone missing a few hours after she last saw Anthony. The issue was a hair found on her coat, assuming it was John's, and they needed a suspect to switch the sample with and to pin it on. Preferably a substance abuser whose testimony couldn't be trusted in court.

"Got it." Shaw said, pulling up a larger picture of their fall guy. "He's pretty hot for a hitman, don't you think?"

"They always are." Joss replied sarcastically, thinking deep down she never knew these were the lengths she'd go to to protect the one she loved.

 _11.46pm, Zoe's apartment, Lenox Hill, Upper East Side_

The video had already gone viral, set to theme music. Since Zoe had no luck getting Hendrik out of a holding cell until Monday morning, John took her home. "That's a nice pick you made there."

She drank straight from the wine bottle. "It's not funny John, how could he have known she was a woman with her hair slicked back and those broad shoulders?"

"Distinct lack of stubble." John replied, relishing in the satisfaction of being right.

"Hendrik does not beat women. Even manly women who throw paint at people instead of getting a _real_ job like the rest of us."

"And Oscar was just scared, he didn't kill his girlfriend."

"Get out, John."


	46. Chapter 46

_A/N: And the tides turn again...  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Saturday 21st November, 1.56am, Joss' apartment_

Joss crept up the stairs barefoot in a white plunge midi dress in the early hours of Saturday morning, home from more shenanigans with Shaw. The lamp was on on his side of the bed providing the only light in the room. She pulled her phone apart and put in on the dresser, not surprised he was in her bed again.

"Where've you been?" He asked, thinking he'd never seen her in that dress before.

"Out." She took out her earrings. "Didn't think I'd see you tonight."

"Our guy's in jail for the weekend, the apartment's pretty cold so," She unzipped her dress at the side and stepped out of it. Again, she wasn't matching. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She wasn't going to tell him she and Shaw got dolled up to seduce Mark Johansen at The Suede Lounge uptown, injected him with a tranquilizer in a hotel room, swabbed his mouth and took a hair sample from the centre of his head, all in the name of protecting him. "Just tired." She threw her underwear in a hamper and slipped under the covers with him. "Too tired."

His body was much warmer than hers, and that became more evident when she laid her cold skin on top of him and buried her face in his chest. The subtle stroking of his fingers rubbing her neck was a comfort after the week she had, moving pieces on the chess board to achieve the desired outcome. She wondered if she was losing her moral compass, and if she was capable of drawing lines anymore. Her conflict was showing on her face, in the frown lines in the forehead and the tension in her cheeks, and he was worried about her.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me." He tried to reassure her.

"I can't."

"Sure you can." His breath was warm too, it brushed against her ear.

"You can't know what you don't know." She repeated something Naomi once told her about deniability in Law School.

And it hit him, she meant what she said about protecting him and this was the cost; he was in the dark and she was sleeping with a murderer. He thought she deserved better and doubt kicked in again, working its way into his thoughts; that she had already done enough for him. "You have a life, a whole life, to go back to anytime you want."

Usually she'd be offended about him giving her an out as though she would consider taking it. But she was so exhausted and emotionally sent, all she could feel was compassion for him. "You have a life too, John." She said sleepily, he was always good at putting her to sleep.

"A life in the shadows." He reminded her, remembering how he envied Cal for taking her out in public.

"Not with me."

 _2.02am, Paul's House, Elmhurst_

Taylor never had to think about his curfew at his dad's house because it didn't exist. He killed time at C.J.'s umpteenth "Guess who's out of town?" party and noticed girls who usually ignored him now knew his name because he was with someone. The TV was on was the DVD menu for _Soul Food Season 2_ was laying on a loop because Monique was lying on the couch with crust around her eyes. He knew she'd been crying because her face was puffy and wondered if this is what his Mom meant about being kind to her instead of nice. She didn't look pregnant yet but her emotions gave her away.

"Taylor." She was embarrassed he'd seen her that way and tried to play it off through her congested voice. "Damon and Teri and that crazy tennis player get me every time."

He nodded along, not believing a word because he knew better; his grandma called it 'misty' and his mom blamed the onions. "You want some water?"

"Sure."

 _9.23am, Joss' apartment_

John had been called many names in his life; orphan, rabble-rouser, delinquent, grunt, idiot. The latter was the only one he found offensive because he wasn't at all stupid even though the closest he'd ever been to college was the few night classes he took at University of Washington when he was still fooling himself he had left the Army for good in late 2000. Just because Joss spent seven years in college, it didn't stop her from leaving a faint trail of crumbs for him to find out what she was up to. While she was in the shower, he read through the newspapers she had delivered to the house and started to see a pattern; no doubt an effect of working with Finch for so long.

There was no news of Cruz Valverde's murder anywhere, the only place she was acknowledged was on a graffiti mural in Queens and an obscure social media forum he'd never heard of. That wasn't all; there had been less numbers than week and the week before, as though things were calming down. Even the shootings in Brighton Beach had died down, except for the occasional domestic dispute. He wasn't stupid enough to believe in a gang truce, but knew who could force a new regime and restore order so quickly and it hurt to think that person was in cahoots with the one he trusted most. So he waited, as she took her extended Saturday shower which he wasn't allowed to join because she boldly refused to get her hair wet and he still didn't know why it was such a big deal.

There was enough coffee for two when she appeared looking like a college student with a tank and jeggings on and a long, plaid shirt from Taylor's hipster phase around her waist. Her mind was too busy for sex earlier and all she wanted was a tall coffee with cream to get her day started. He turned on the digital radio, some incoherent sounds came out and the DJ said it was Waka Flocka Flame. John tuned it to a classic rock station and Black Dog was playing.

"How long have you been working with Elias?" He asked.

She blinked and shifted in her seat. "I saw him two weeks ago."

The cogs were turning; he went off the grid two weeks ago, shot Cruz two weeks ago, and she promised to not to let anything happen to him two weeks ago. "How could you get involved with him, again?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "How could I? How could I not? What choice did you give me? Or give us?"

"I was doing my job."

"No. You were doing _John_. 'Cause _John_ dips out on the Team and hunts down a number without all the facts. And _John_ cuts off contact with everyone who's got his back. And when _everyone but John_ knows Elias put a hit out on Cruz, _John_ -" She took a deep breath because she could say it out loud: _John put a bullet in her brain before they had a chance to stop it._ "So now you expect me to let you go to jail, except you won't go to jail; the CIA will take you and hide you in the deepest, darkest hole they've got. And you're mad at me, for what?"


	47. Chapter 47

_A/N: For_ **opheliablack** _, Mars Walker was DoD and I won't write him into this fic because I never enjoyed writing him, it was just necessary for the story. That, and the readers hate him so...as for how John got caught, I described it in Body Count and can't write it because it includes M-rated stuff I don't wish to write e.g. extreme "interrogation" techniques.  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Saturday 21st November, 1.16pm, Brighton Beach_

"And the thing that _really_ gets on my nerves is…"

Thanks to Capt. Miller, their Saturday mornings were hijacked by a stakeout; so instead of finishing off her argument with John, she and Fusco were waiting for the primary witness in a poisoning to show up at his ex-girlfriend's house to pick up their child. Fusco wasn't the type of man to think women should be in the Force but it was days like this that reminded him of the downside of having a female partner. She went straight from recounting what happened, and narrating what he said and what she said back, to picking it apart aloud.

"…He's always gotta be a hero, always got to be the guy crawling out the burning car…"

As he didn't know she and Shaw were working with Elias, all he caught of it was John was mad she was trying to help him like it was a crime or something.

"…Like he's the only one who knows his way around an MG-15…"

Fusco scratched his head. "Uhhh Carter, shouldn't you be talking to someone else about this? Like…your Ma, or the cute one that does your hair?"

"I don't mean to bore you, Fusco, but I don't get what his problem is. Wasn't he the one who said _I'm not alone, whether I like it or not_?"

"Maybe, he can't handle people going to bat for him."

He succeeded in shutting her up. "Hmmm…"

 _3.03pm, Finch's Townhouse_

Shaw was in an uncharacteristically good mood when The Machine produced another number. A bowl of sugary cereal wasn't the cause; a night of high-jinks with her new best friend did the trick. The only thing that would've made it better was taking Bear along for the ride. "Why's he wearing a muzzle?" She asked Leon, who heard her question three times over because of his hangover.

"To stop Bear licking the stitches." Finch replied, carrying a silver pot of Sencha tea to his desk. "He found the Elizabethan collar rather distressing so this is a healthy compromise."

She pulled out a dried chicken strip from a box of premium treats that set her back 30 dollars and poked it through a hole in the muzzle. "I hope you're not still feeding him the cheap stuff. I mean, what does he have to go through to get some decent food to eat?"

Finch knew better than to chase her down the rabbit hole, he already had a sulking John to deal with, proving his early suspicions were right; Carter was throwing him off his game. "Eddie Kovach."

Even though he didn't feel like talking to Joss now she had a crime boss in her pocket, he would never forget clutching the trigger as she read Eddie the riot act in a bar almost 3 years ago. They weren't partners then, definitely not friends; she was the diligent hunter and he was the elusive game. Looking back on it, with all the people after her at one time she was practically him. "What about him?" John asked, waiting for Shaw's next punchline.

"So you know him?"

Finch pinned his picture to the board. "He threatened someone close to us, which didn't end well. Something about being suspended from the ceiling by an extension cord." Shaw liked this story. "He then served 22 months for Menacing and Assault against his wife, from January 2012 to October 2014, and recently got out on good behaviour."

"Where's Mrs Kovach?" John asked, thinking he wouldn't mind another round with Kovach if it would release the tension.

"Ms Ellison." Finch corrected him, pinning a portrait of a thinner woman with short cropped brown hair. "She divorced Mr Kovach while he was incarcerated and moved to Staten Island. Now I don't have to _tell_ you to tread lightly, as the no. 1 indicator of intimate partner homicide _is_ previous incidents of domestic violence."

"It sounds like you're telling me anyway, Finch." John told him.

"What I'm trying to say is you'll need a companion in the field. One with a more sensitive approach to domestic disputes." Finch hinted, tentatively. "And a _badge_."

John realised why she took her phone apart the night before, and how foolish it was that he didn't. "You heard everything, didn't you?"

"Heard what?" Shaw enquired. "How'd you mess it up this time?"

"It was a minor disagreement." Finch explained.

She raised her eyebrows. "About what? I got blisters in those stupid strappy shoes last night, for you. _Blisters_."

It was clear who was Dee-Dee in Dexter's Laboratory and she might as well be singing off-key for the nerves she was trampling on today. "What's the address, Harold?" John asked, blowing her off.

Shaw was genuinely offended. "Jeez, you swap DNA and all you get's an ungrateful ass-hat asking for directions."

Finch wouldn't admit that he shared her sentiment because he needed him in the field. "I heard enough. Irrespective of your _current_ feelings, I think you'll agree Mrs Kovach's safety is more important that any, uhh, discord, between you and the Detective."

"What _kind_ of discord?" Shaw couldn't help twisting the knife; in her eyes Carter was a much better Frankie to her Cleo than a dolly-bird Bonnie to his bonehead Clyde. "And how long's it gonna last? 'Cause I made plans for next week."

John sighed. "Fine. I'll work with Carter. As long as you promise one thing-"

"You know I have to listen in, for technical support." Finch would never admit how easy it was to live vicariously through their relationship even though he and Grace were nothing like them. There was something thrilling about the heightened drama that he had yet to experience for himself.

"Next time you go looking for Elias, I wanna know about it."

Shaw snorted and snickered. "You're not his type."

"Agreed." Finch replied, glaring at her.

 _4.09pm, I-278 W_

Of all the rides John had picked her up in, the 7-seater family car was the cheesiest, but the soccer mom car was perfectly-discreet for Tottenville. Joss didn't have much to say because she didn't know what she was doing wrong. She didn't understand why it was such a crime to protect him. Luckily they didn't have to talk, Rod Stewart was melodic enough for them to hum along without communicating. John ruminated about her being the first member of the Team to be a number, and the second time her number came up and he failed her. All he could do was hold her in his arms until help came and keep her warm as more and more blood seeped out of her body. She patted her hair; a consequence of cancelling her appointment with Janelle for Finch's 911 call.

"You cold?" He asked.

She didn't want to look at him. "No, I'm good."

"Joss," She braced herself. "Is this the kind of life you want?"

"I stopped asking myself that a long time ago, John. It's the life I've got; I can't imagine being anywhere else."

"I mean with me. But not really with me."

"What'd you mean not re-?" She sighed. "You're not doing this today, John."

"Doing what? I'm just asking a question."

"You're asking me to help you quit. To give up so you can go back to that lone wolf-ranger-soldier crap you think you're good at. Well, you're not."

"It's not that simple. If they find me, it's not just me who'll go down; it's you and everyone around us. Everyone I care about."

"You mean everyone who cares about you. Did you forget? I was cuffed in that car with Snow too; for the same reason I reached out to Elias and the same reason I'm in this car today. Guess I'm a fool for thinking the world's better with you in it."

He was through figuring out why she was at his side, and as she wasn't going anywhere, he gave in for the time being. "So Kovach hasn't been to work for three days."

"Last known spend?" She asked.

"No credit spends for two weeks."

"I meant cash, can't the Machine do some facial recog at the counter or something?"

"You need new friends."

Her sad smile betrayed that he might be right. "I notified the 123rd Precinct, so if the place is crawling with local PD you can-"

"Swim back to the city?"

It didn't make her laugh but it did make her smile.

 _4.48pm, Tottenville, Staten Island_

There was no laughter or smiles to offset the former Mrs Kovach's scream when she saw her ex-husband in handcuffs and the tuft of strawberry blonde hair in the evidence bag. John felt his nails digging into the steering wheel as Joss talked to the officers at the scene of the crime. Even from a safe distance, he knew they were too late.


	48. Chapter 48

_A/N: I always wanted to write in to the couple in 1x09 (The Kovachs) and see where they were years later._ _  
_

 _Also, I don't plan to write all the way to just before Body Count starts. I planned to show you what John's motivation was in taking on that mission, also some of you asked how Taylor and Monique came to have that kind of relationship and it was in my head so hopefully it makes more sense now._

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Saturday 21st November 2014, 10.37pm, Houston Bed and Breakfast, Tottenville, Staten Island_

John knew it was best to make himself scarce before the police started their canvas on the local area. On a Saturday afternoon, most families in the well-to-do neighbourhood were at the local park or the mall watching the latest movies. Only one of Angela Ellison's neighbours could make out a shaky statement of how she felt something was strange about the black Mitsubishi Lancer parked down the street because her husband had been looking for one since it had been discontinued earlier that year.

 _"…Victim has been identified as Laura Ellison, 39, radio presenter and Agony Aunt for the Tottenville Banner…"_

From Joss' observation, the conflict had been fast and escalated quickly. The bruise on Laura's forehead was consistent with the blood stain on the door from where Eddie forced his way in with a shove strong enough to knock her backwards. The torn sweater and tufts of the Ellison family's signature strawberry blonde hair indicated Laura tried to run and Eddie dragged her back. But it was the scream she would never forget, a scream that played on and on like the ringing bells of tinnitus. That scream echoed the horror of seeing her sister on a stretcher and not being allowed either the ambulance or the place they called home.

 _"…The alleged assailant has been named as Edward Kovach, former brother-in-law to the victim…"_

Detective Carter couldn't fathom if Eddie knew he shot the 'wrong' sister or if he knew and did it to punish her for helping his ex-wife escape him. Joss couldn't figure it out either. And despite her knowledge of the case, the 123rd Precinct shut her out; eager to solve it on their own, for their reputation and the community's sense of safety. There was little else to the local news story, other than emergency services had responded quickly and police officials had resolved to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law. John thought it wasn't worth the pain of watching it and turned off the TV. She didn't react.

"They didn't say how many shots."

He tried to stop her. "Joss."

"Four shots to the abdomen, two lacerations to the liver. Excess bleeding." Her legs swung as she sat on the floral bedding. You know what the chances of survival are when someone gets shot in the liver?"

"Joss, stop."

"30 to 40% because the cells start dying off and there's all that blood-"

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Stop." He wasn't expecting her to so he had nothing to say when she did. She was stony and he couldn't stomach seeing her that way.

Her phone rang. "Carter…yes I was…yes I can, I'm not that far away…first thing tomorrow morning?...Of course Captain, I'll do what I can…"

"Miller?" John asked.

"No, Samuelsson. Angela refused to make a statement until she saw her sister. She wants me to be there."

He nodded and still couldn't read what she was feeling, if anything at all. An idea popped into his head. "How about you sleep it off? I'll wake you."

"I'm not tired."

 _11.10pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst_

Paul and his frat brothers were sequestered in the garage playing _Bizarre Ride II The Pharcyde_ like it was 1992 and they were college kids again, when Taylor got home from his date with Isabella. Her parents had a habit of switching up her curfew and calling at inopportune times like it was a conspiracy to keep him on edge. The Enya song he didn't was playing in the living room again which meant Monique was doing yoga or meditating or both. In his mind, anything was better than crying.

She breathed in through her nose and opened her eyes. "Hey. Ever tried?"

"Nope. And not planning to either."

She smiled, at least she was in better spirits. "About earlier,"

"It's okay. Blame it on the paint or something."

She decided to change subject, because he did. "This is the Lotus Pose. It's easy if you try." He shook his head. "Okay." She stared at him for a moment wondering what planets collided for him to be Paul's son but so different. "Can you help your dad with the nursery? I'm pulling my hair out."

He looked from side-to-side because he didn't want to. "Isn't it early for that?"

She sighed. "You know when he gets started, it's hard to stop him."

He knew the feeling. "I got it."

 _11.12pm, Houston Bed and Breakfast, Tottenville, Staten Island._

Joss couldn't remember the last time a man ran her a bath much less got in with her. Maybe her 'don't get my hair wet' edict was too strict, or maybe they just didn't care enough about the little things, or, she suspected, she never let them in long enough to know what she needed. Ultimately, she needed TLC to make up for the long day and warm water to wash away the sorrow. John got the distinct feeling that she could sit there, on top of him, for hours. He didn't mind that.

"How'd you deal with it?" She asked, out of the blue. "The failure."

He rubbed his chin against her neck. The water was still running, keeping their feet warm. "It's not failure." He lied to her and himself. "It's a…missed chance."

"And if she dies? Do you call it failure then?"

He didn't have an adequate answer to give her because it felt like it was happening again; that she was dying in his arms and he couldn't save her. "That's a good question."

"I want to do good out there, John."

"You do."

"But I need to look in the mirror and like what I see too, live with myself, you know?"

He squeezed her tighter. "I know."

"You gotta quit disappearing, John." She said, in a tone that was more maternal than she expected.

"I know that too."

Her back sank deeper into his chest. "Now tell me one of your stories."

He couldn't help but smile. "Okay, so if there's one thing I learnt in the Group Home it's not to eat the butter…"


	49. Chapter 49

_A/N: As_ **QueenJessicaPearson** _knows, I saw Syleena Johnson live a couple of years ago and she sang (and wrote) an incredible song called "I cut my hair".  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Sunday 22nd November, 8.22am, Houston Bed and Breakfast, Tottenville, Staten Island._

The first time John heard her say "I love you" was in her sleep. She muttered it and arched her back into a catlike position and grumbled something incoherent like she was talking to someone in her dream. But this wasn't a dream, she woke up, opened her eyes and said to the first face she saw three little, heavy, serious, complicated words that sucked the air out of the room. And she couldn't take them back so she just went with it.

"I…" John was never good with words in times like this, not that he'd had much experience. The only woman he'd spent more than a year with couldn't even get him to say "Wait" so returning words that were drawn out of him by a teenager and repeated by a jackass who acted like a teenager was an incredible feat. One he was incapable of achieving. "I…"

Joss shook her head; it would've been more disappointing if she hadn't seen it coming. "I already know John, so you can save the smouldering eye routine. Everything in its time, right?"

The hint of cynicism in her voice didn't go unnoticed as she slipped into the bathroom before he could answer. He smacked himself for wimping out or blowing it, as Shaw would say. From the other side of the door he could hear the water running and her humming a familiar tune he couldn't name. _She knows. She's known for a long time._ John trusted her more than anyone, and he knew that's what love was; finally being honest, hell, finally just being. But when she appeared with neater hair, basic makeup and matching underwear and he was still tongue-tied, she was over it. She pulled a light-grey sweater over her head.

"You can say it when you're ready, I'll give you that. But you need to know; I've already been with a man who wouldn't talk to me, and it didn't work."

He nodded. "Okay."

"I gotta go. Angela's got a lot to say."

"I think I should head back to the city, Finch needs me. I'll leave the keys."

"Don't." That came out more abruptly than she intended. "I mean, I can always catch a cab and charge it to Finch, right?"

"Right."

 _9.02am, 123rd Precinct, Tottenville, Staten Island_

The tea had milk and two sweeteners, like Angela asked for. Joss noticed a number of differences about her from the last time they spoke; she had lost more weight than her portrait showed, her short chocolate brown bob really suited her and her painted nails had all been chewed down. When she spoke her voice was hoarse, from crying and screaming at the medics in critical care who refused her visit. For the recurrent news story Joss knew Eddie mistook Laura for her elder sister because this Angela didn't look anything like the one he was married to.

"Eddie always said Laurie was jealous of me, of us, so after a while it made sense to see her less, talk to her less. When she stopped calling, I thought she cut _me_ off. I never knew he put a block on the phone. And then it was about 13 years 'til I saw her next." She shivered in her seat.

"Are you cold?" Joss asked.

"No, just sick to my stomach." Angela closed her eyes and performed a breathing exercise Joss recognised from her first few months back home from Iraq. She had heard of soldier's heart or Da Costa's syndrome, but the source of her heart palpitation was the anxiety she needed to get under control. Angela was trying to breathe through her diaphragm instead of her chest, something that came easier with time. "What was I saying?"

"You're not cold and you and Laura were estranged for a long time."

"Oh. Well, when Eddie went away I couldn't stay there. I didn't know what to do with myself with him gone and I had no-one to talk to."

Joss leaned in. "Any neighbours or friends?"

"I didn't have friends. Pop used to say Laurie's a big time writer out here so one day I just showed up."

"At her home?"

Angela shook her head and her bangs swung. "The Doughnut shop. She always liked doughnut holes, dipped in chocolate. With sprinkles." The sweet thought made her smile.

"What did she say when she saw you?"

"She said _she_ used to be the skinny one but I had to do _something_ with my hair." She whimpered like a woman used to crying in a closet so no-one could hear. "What's gonna happen to my sister?"

"Critical Care is working 'round the clock so…I'm hopeful."

"What's gonna happen to Eddie?"

"Honestly, I don't know. But I do know that your statement very important to the case and I hope you'll answer a few more questions."

Angela nodded but didn't make eye contact. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

 _10.04am, Zoe's apartment, Lenox Hill, Upper East Side_

Zoe didn't know what John was doing at her apartment building but she buzzed him up anyway hoping he had some news the police didn't. As far as she knew, Hendrik was going to be released on Monday morning as the protester wasn't pressing charges, their anti-conflict-diamond organisation was currently enjoying triple the traffic to their site and Youtube page, and it was good for the restaurant too because they couldn't buy that kind of publicity.

"Why are you here, John?" Her fluffy grey dressing gown and bear slipper boots were a comedic departure from her usual attire.

"I don't know. To check on you, maybe?"

She noticed he had more stubble that usual. "Bull. It's too early in the morning to drink what _you_ like and I'm with someone, _so_ what do you want? To talk?" She laughed to herself. "No, not John."

He sighed and felt the air leaving the room. "I shouldn't've come here."

"But you did. Why?" She opened a cabinet anyway and pulled out a bottle of gin and a short square glass, and gave him the once-over. He looked like he hadn't showered either. She sighed. "Ahh, you're here because of what I said about you _running_. And now something's amiss with Joss, you want someone to fall back on."

He took that as his cue to exit and got up. "You deserve better."

She didn't know he cared. "Excuse me?"

"Hendrik's an idiot, as proved this weekend."

"John,"

"Yeah?"

She resented him for playing with her emotions. "You're right. You shouldn't be here."

 _7.03pm, Joss' apartment_

Joss went from making dinner alone to being under the watchful eye of her son. She wanted to ask him why he smelled like a perfume stand at the mall but didn't. "Don't you like it?" She asked, thinking grilled chicken, sweet potatoes and greens was her first proper meal all weekend.

"It's great. Are you okay?"

She swallowed. "I've been better but-"

"So you're not?"

"Tay, it's been a tough weekend and I'm waiting for some news. It's a lot. But I'm fine." She wasn't convincing anyone. "How's Isabella?"

"Good?" He didn't know or like where this was going.

"I'm happy for you. I really am." She sipped her juice and he got the message; the news was about John.

 _8.28pm, Joss' apartment_

Joss stood under the shower until the water ran cold; if she could she would wash away the humiliation of loving a man who couldn't say the words back, the longing for his touch, and the feeling that just wouldn't go away. The nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach that something bad was about to happen and she couldn't stop or change it. She washed off her makeup although there wasn't much to begin with. And she scrubbed until her skin begged her to stop.

And there he was waiting in her room like he didn't know what he was doing or that he had the upper hand or why she was looking at him like she wanted to fight.

"What are you doing here, John?" He was asked, for the second time that day.

He took off his jacket and hung it over her wicker chair, she held her breath. "I left you hanging this morning."

 _Mmm-hmm, like a cat on a hot tin roof. Tell him Jocelyn!_ She turned her inner Evelyn down to 4, suddenly aware that she was wearing a towel and he was in his biker's getup, minus the jacket of course. "I _really_ wasn't expecting you tonight."

"I know. I need to tell you something."

She sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed lotion on her legs. "Is it Laura?"

"No, there's no news. About what you said,"

"If you say _me too_ ; I'll kill you." Her tone said she wasn't joking.

"I can't tell you how I feel about you, not right now. But I heard you and it felt good to hear it, better than…anything. I want to give you that. At the right time."

"I think I understand; I've been trying to bring you out, when you wanna be left alone." He couldn't and wouldn't admit it was true, but it was. It was his default setting. "But John, I don't wanna be alone anymore. I know that now. And you can't have one foot in, not with me or my son." She glanced at the window that led to the fire escape. "So you can't stay here tonight. Not until you know what you want."


	50. Chapter 50

_A/N: What's greater - fear of success or fear or failure? And why?_ _  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Sunday 22nd November, 9.58pm, Finch's townhouse, Greenwich Village_

Sometimes John looked forward to having a new number, because it gave him something to throw himself into and a reason to lose his head in something other than his own life. A life that was growing more complicated by the moment. "Come in, Mr Reese." Finch wasn't expecting his guest to use the front door. "A concerned citizen just made a _considerable_ donation to Laura Ellison's crowdfunding page."

John unscrewed the cap on the first bottle he could find. "A concerned citizen." He drank straight from the bottle in a mock toast.

He paused the chess game with the Machine. "Judging from the current climate, I assume you came here to talk."

He shook his head. "Ugh, not you too."

"Would you prefer the swivel chair or the leather?"

John plopped down and threw his head back in the plush leather chair that had recently been reupholstered. "Hit me."

"Excuse me?"

"I could say something, you could say something back, or you could just tell me what conclusion you've already come to."

Finch leaned back and twiddled his fingers, trying to be as succinct as possible. "Perhaps your fear of success is greater than your fear of failure." Sitting and swigging in that chair, John had no idea how prophetic those words would be.

 _Four weeks later, Tuesday 16th December, 7.14am, Joss' apartment_

Taylor could tell how anxious she was by the bowl of dry cereal on the island counter; he figured he'd feel the same way if he was testifying against a man tried to kill his ex-wife and almost killed her sister instead. The gruesome story had drawn some attention in New York but it wasn't on the front of any newspapers. Joss smoothed out her navy blazer and pulled her pencil skirt below her knees. "How do I look?" She asked, choosing tea over coffee for once.

He cocked his head to the side and tried to lighten the mood. "Like a flight attendant."

She rolled her eyes and bit into an apple. "Judges like this look. It says I'm a trustworthy and credible witness. Besides the DVU Detectives are wearing grey."

He thought she looked she looked frumpy. "DVU?" He repeated, trying to respond to a text discreetly.

"Domestic Violence Unit. Every Precinct has one."

"So after your testimony, then what happens?"

"Well, the prosecution asks a series of questions and presents the evidence. Then the defence cross-examines me. I don't know how long it'll take and I'd feel _much_ better knowing you're at Grandma's since I haven't told Dad about the trial."

He noticed the list of things Dad didn't know was growing longer by the day. "Why not?"

 _Because it's a trigger._ "Because I can't. Besides I talk to her more anyway, and she's expecting you."

Although Paul and Monique had been arguing a lot lately, Isabella's house was a short walk from his Dad's and the trade-off for seeing her was worth it. "Okay, I'll stay over there."

"Good. And when I get back I'll look through your apps if you want. So we can have a nice, country, college-free, Southern Christmas."

John was still around, but he had a feeling things weren't the same between them so he couldn't return her smile. "Okay."

She tried to give him a better deal; when her dramatic Aunt Tulip called about her life-threatening bunion surgery, the only way to console her was to promise to spend Christmas with the family in Summerville. "Tay, you can always fly back to Dad's for New Year's."

"It's not that, he's spending the holidays with Monique anyway." His delivery was stoic and she didn't have time to unpack it before he went to school and she hit the highway.

Evelyn's words rang in her head; she knew she needed to pull out of their relationship but it was crushing her. "Well, it's up to you."

"I don't mind. You want me to get your bag?"

She wasn't convinced. "Sure, it's in my room."

 _9.05am, Finch's Penthouse, Tribeca_

The new base of Operations proved Leon was good for more than a fraudulent scam or a quick getaway, the 12000 square feet penthouse had enough room to house the Machine, a reclusive billionaire and a Belgian Malinois on the way to recovery. And if you asked Shaw, a highly-skilled ex-assassin with a penchant for gummy bears and vodka. Even the Machine seemed to be getting acclimatised to its new home as system calibration was at 42.3%. That meant for at least the next 24 hours they were unable to do their jobs and only a live police feed informed them of what was happening on the ground.

In the past month, Elias had gone quiet and had become more reliant on Anthony as the Machine had detected a few rare sightings. Finch figured as long as Elias wasn't using the Team as accidental hitmen, his activities weren't their concern.

 _7.20pm, Cosmos Hotel, Tottenville, Staten Island._

After her workout there was nothing else to do but sink into a chair in her hotel room and watch whatever was on TV. But with John in her room that wasn't on the cards. At least his clothes were on. Ever since she put the ball in his court he'd stayed out of her bedroom at home, but she said nothing about 1302. The scent of jasmine had faded, replaced by bubble bath and sweat. She recognised the white takeaway boxes on the small card table; he'd brought her dinner. "Thai food."

"I thought you'd be hungry after court."

She smiled because he gave her just what she needed. "I am. Are you?"

"Not right now."

Her phone rang and she knew who it was without looking. "Hey Ma…as good as it could've…yeah…he's here." She looked over at John, who was trying to make out what the infamous Evelyn Magnolia Willie-Mae Taylor was saying. "No he's not doing lighting this time, he's just following his girlfriend…mmm-hmm, to the moon…okay…love you…bye." She made sure she hung up because her mother used to catch her out by hanging on the phone line, eavesdropping. "She says hello."

"Just hello?"

"She calls you my mystery man and wants to check your credit score but you don't wanna hear that. What's up?" She fished a shrimp out of the Pad Thai.

He sat with her and felt awkward. She sensed him clamming up again. "I think I know what you want."

She raised an eyebrow. "Keep it, bottle it, sell it for a million dollars."

"I'm serious. That's what you want; me to be serious about you." He'd broken through a skin; he knew that much because she stopped eating. "And I am. But I can't give you what you want in the way you want it."

She scraped her teeth against her top lip for a while. "No offense, John, but you're a fugitive; I already knew that the first day I met you. But that doesn't change how I feel about you. You told _me_ to stop looking around corners when you keep running from me."

"I'm not running."

"What's your last name? It can't be Reese, right?" He was stumped. "And your middle name starts with an H, right? Howard? Harvey? Hank?" She put a fork in her food. "I know you won't tell me, John, but I'm still here anyway. Because I love you."

It was agonising to hear the second time around, because this time he knew what was coming and he knew his feelings would flood him against everything he'd been taught. But he was powerless to it. Joss was doing damage to his defences without even touching him. She just ate, and ate, until two boxes were empty, while John chewed on his tongue for dinner.

"I care about you." He said, seemingly out of nowhere. "And if I could make things different, protect you, I would. I need you to know that."

"I do."

"This life…you deserve better than what I can give you."

"How about you let me decide that?"


	51. Chapter 51

_A/N: Since Future had a 'moment' recently and I've been listening to Toni Braxton's "The Heat" - I think it's time for another Paul/Joss/John scene...oh and more Careese Sexytime. Links to Chapters 42 and 50 of Body Count._ _  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Tuesday 16th December, 9.10pm, Cosmos Hotel, Tottenville, Staten Island._

One of the things John offered when they first got together was company and she knew she was better off with him around than staring at the walls thinking about what decision the judge would make and when. It started off innocently enough, with Steve Martin delivering a 20-point read of the century about better insults for his nose in _Roxanne_. Empty wrappers were left on the floor from John's minibar raid. Their bodies made a crooked letter on the couch and John's inner teen was trying to get to second base.

"Can't we just watch the movie?" She moved his hand. "He's about to say the poetic one."

"I've watched this a hundred times."

"So have I, it never gets old. Shhh."

He tried his luck again but she was quick with the reflex. "And you're _sure_ you didn't go to a convent?"

"You haven't met my mom. Damn, missed it."

He switched off the TV. "Watch it at home." If it was anyone else she would've been outraged, but she was always drawn to his _alpha male_ nature because she often felt like a man on paper. That, and she admired the way he always went for what he wanted, even her, and that was a freedom she didn't have the luxury of. He noticed she was overthinking again and asked her a burning question. "Why can't you get your hair wet?"

She tried to be succinct. "It's not wash-and-go hair."

For once, he had no clue what she was talking about. "I have no idea what that means."

She laughed to herself. "It means; I don't like it."

That, he could understand. "Then what do you like?"

"Whatever you _like_." She replied, impersonating the princess in _Coming to America_.

And just like that; it was easier, not easy, but easier to be in the same room though on different pages…until Paul called. John had been around long enough to know that she had a special ringtone to make her relax before she talked to him, _Eiffel 65_ 's Blue, he thought the nonsense lyrics were fitting.

"Hey Paul. What's up?...I'm good…yeah he is…because that's where I want him to be right now…" She ran her hand up her forehead started massaging her hair, like she always did when she was exasperated. "We're _not_ talking about my work." And then she went silence and the confusion showed in her eyes. "Baseball cap? What baseball cap?"

John had had enough so he grabbed the phone and she had a feeling things would go from bad to worse. "Paul, you mean _my_ baseball cap; the one I gave Taylor." There was a long pause after that and Joss could imagine Paul's rage on the other end of the phone. She'd never had a man stand up for her like that though, and it made her almost want to wet her hair with glee. "'Cause the Huskies are a great team." He replied sardonically. "…Wax?" Joss noticed he didn't have as snappy a comeback about the wax residue and the proverbial crap was about to hit the fan. All she could hear was the buzz of Paul's voice on the other end of the line and she thought it was the most words they'd ever spoken to each other; little did she know it was the most they ever would. The bulging vein in the side of John's head showed how determined he was to have the last word. And he did. "Next time I'm picking up your _slack_ and we're at the _range_ ; _I'll_ teach Taylor how to iron out the wax. Don't call again; we're busy."

 _Wednesday 17th December, 7.10am, Cosmos Hotel, Tottenville, Staten Island._

Maybe it was the electric surge to her girl parts when her man dropped the mic on her ex. Or maybe it was the rush of being on the bathroom sink with his earlobe between her teeth, biting, forcing down his pants with her bare feet. Perhaps it was the gleam in his eye when she bit down harder than she intended and left a teeth mark but he encouraged her to keep going anyway. It could have been the hickies on the back of her neck. Either way, sex too good made her forget she had court in the morning until her alarm abruptly reminded her.

"Arrrrrrgh. Why'd you let me sleep in?" She groaned.

"Because…you were sleeping." He didn't see what the problem was, after she drew blood surely she'd need the rest.

She pointed at her sex hair. " _This_ is not court hair."

"It's not _wet_ though."

 _Wednesday 17th December, 12.27pm, Finch's Penthouse, Tribeca_

It wasn't any Christmas hat, it was a knitted white and red hat with strands of wool for a bobble that fell to the left. The time stamp on the video showed Grace coming out of the arts and crafts store with a tray box of ceramic painted Christmas baubles. Shaw wasn't watching out of protection, she was intrigued as to why Finch saved it in the first place. Whoever the almost burgundy-haired woman was couldn't be a number or else she would've known already.

"So who is she?" Shaw asked, while he was resetting one of his passwords to keep her out.

"An old acquaintance." He replied. "I appreciate if you didn't do that again, Ms Shaw."

There was something in his tone that suggested she shouldn't push it, so she verbally pinpricked John instead to compensate. "Out of the doghouse into the ditch, Johnny?"

He smiled at her wishful thinking. "You know I hate when you call me _Johnny_. Carter says hi and something about gummy bears." If looks could kill, she would've sliced his vital organs into filet mignon.

"Incoming." Finch announced, thwarting the bloodshed. "Kamala Nakhtare, Pharmacy Technician from Pomonok, Queens. Age 38, single mother of two, widow of Anuj. No criminal record, however there is an extensive history on her Watchflix account…"

 _8.41pm, All Organics Foods, Greenpoint, Brooklyn_

Joss once told him he was full of emotions he never talked about and was very bad at hiding, and life would be better if he let them out before he imploded. That was over a decade ago and all he got for expressing himself was a smug federal agent on the other end of the line and a son who wouldn't open up to him even after a workout that got the best of both of them. Taylor was doing that thing where his phone was an extension of his arm.

"I didn't know you liked the Huskies," Paul said casually, picking a bag of apricots off the shelf.

"I don't. It's just a hat." He responded to another text. And another.

Paul stared at him, thinking it was incredulous how well he could keep a secret. "You got any idea what sigh-tan is? It looks like Satan."

"It's _say_ -tan." The sales assistant said, behind them. "It's wheat gluten you'll find it in the meat-alternative section in the fridge. Two aisles down."

"Thanks. You sure you're not coming home tonight?"

Taylor knew he would do anything to avoid seeing his grandma since she never liked him in the first place. "Can't. Lamb chops."

If there was one thing Paul could change about Monique, he would make her a meat-cooking vegetarian. "Don't you think this looks like meat loaf?"

"Yeah. Sure." He replied, nonchalantly.

"Taylor."

He looked up from his incessant texting. "Huh?"

"You're really into this girl, huh?"

Taylor glared at him, mortified. "Dad, we're _outside_."

He tried to lighten the mood. "Technically we're inside."

His nostrils flared because, as Evelyn said, he was acting mannish. "Gram wants to know when's the wedding?"

Paul groaned on their way to the checkout. "Of course she does. I swear that woman could try the patience of a saint…"


	52. Chapter 52

_A/N: When you wish upon a star, you might find it belongs to Brad Jennings._ _  
_

 _Random fact: Monique's vegetarianism is based on my sister who's been going strong for 19 years._

 _I wrote this because I still feel Christmassy and all this angsty stuff is a lot...obviously there's more coming, but anyway._

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Friday 19th December, 7.21pm, 8th Precinct_

There was no-one Joss was happier to see than her partner, especially with the news she had for him. Unfortunately, the cologne and brand new shirt he was wearing and the box of chocolates on his desk completely switched her focus. "Is this what happens when I go away? You get some game?" She teased.

"Thanks for that, Carter." He replied, wishing he had left earlier.

"So what's her name?" She eyed his keyboard.

"Cynthia. And no background checks." He warned. "I told Sherlock and Watson the same thing already. I'm off the clock."

" _Ooooooh_. Fusco's all sensitive about his _girlfriend_."

He was surprised by her carefree attitude. "What's got you so happy?"

"I'm always happy."

"Like hell you are. Did Batman finally get a clue and take you out like normal people?"

"Not exactly. Anyway, the Honorable Judge Juanita Gordon dropped the hammer on Kovach to the tune of life without parole, 25 years minimum for first degree attempted murder and assault. Or as our friend's favourite song goes; _what's your name, who's your daddy_?"

He didn't know if John's influence was worse on her attitude or her taste in music. Either way he was meeting Cynthia in Brooklyn and didn't want to be late. "And the sister?"

"Still recovering but she won't need a transplant."

"Glad to hear it." He lowered his voice. "Just a heads up, Cap'n took you off that case you were looking at with the British bride murdered on her honeymoon."

"The Salahuddin case? Why?"

"'Cause when he ran your honour killing theory up the flagpole, the higher-ups said it was racist. And we don't need any more negative attention after that "Ask NYPD" hashtag PR disaster. If I were you I wouldn't push, he made the police aide cry yesterday."

She sighed and resolved to pick it up in the future. "Okay, thanks."

He stared at her. "You're not spending Friday night at the Precinct when you just got back." She shrugged her shoulders, he should've known she didn't have other plans. "Come on Carter,"

"Go. Don't worry about me."

 _8.03pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

Sometimes Gregory played the piano for practice to make sure he still had it, sometimes he played for real with a band and sometimes he played because the love of his life was driving him crazy with her latest stunt. When Taylor shuffled out the door behind his girlfriend with his shoulders hunched over and a distinctly mannish air about him, Gregory played _André 3000_ 's rendition of My Favourite Things for its speed and complexity. The music came along with the added bonus of tuning out his paramour as she justified her works; namely, roping Taylor into bringing Isabella to the condo with a rousing, emotional guilt trip about how he was 'ashamed of his family' and didn't want his 'fancy friends' from 'the rich school' to come over. It was only when she raised one eyebrow because he wasn't responding to her that he stopped playing. "What, love?" He asked with a smile.

She pursed her lips, with her fiery personality somewhat tempered his cool, calm, collected nature; they were the definition of 'opposites attract'. "If I never _asked_ him-"

"You didn't ask." He reminded her.

"Okay, _pushed_ him to invite her, we wouldn't know what we know now."

Her rationalisation was like no other so he was actually looking forward to what came out of her mouth next. "Which is?"

"One, he has good taste _which_ he gets from me. _Two_ , that's girl's gonna be President one day. And three, we raised him right and he's not bringing home a love child like his father. _A_ -men."

She was more than pleased with herself and he thought she shouldn't have been. "Fourteen."

"What's that?"

"You asked her fourteen questions."

She would never admit how bad that sounded on paper. "So?"

" _So_ , by the time we get to Summerville, Taylor might not _have_ a girlfriend. A little bit goes a long way, Ev."

She hated when he pointed things out she couldn't and didn't want to see. "I am _very_ nice. And an _excellent_ judge of character."

He shook his head and changed the subject; he'd made his point. "Antoine's set starts at 20 past 9, I said we'd go for the last time this year. Didn't you pick up that nice dress from the cleaners?"

"I think so."

"Then get dressed. And let your hair down, it's Friday…" He started playing _Sergio Mendes_ ' Mas que nada to drown out her protests so she had no choice but to drag her feet to the closet, wondering what she'd done to deserve this and why she put up with him.

 _10.38pm, Finch's Penthouse, Tribeca_

In addition to tracking Grace as she ran her Christmas errands, including playing the video of her singing along with the buskers at Grand Central Station to Jingle Bells on repeat, Finch had another project going. Ever since the big mistake with Cruz Valverde, he was curious about the upper-level criminals in New York Elias might attempt to have taken out; currently his hit list consisted of a Slovakian weapons dealer, a British drug trafficker, and a corrupt Thai government official living in Chelsea. Joss was fascinated by his findings, especially as her brain was starting to work more like his ever since her investigation on HR.

"You know; some people make gingerbread houses this time of year." She said, sifting through his documents and police files he shouldn't have had access to; clearly she wasn't the only one using Anthony as a resource. "But you do have reason to be concerned. So I do too."

He was relieved to find someone even-keeled enough to listen. " _…Making spirits bright. Oh what fun it is to ride and sing a sleighing song tonight. Oh, jingle bells…_ " Finch slammed the laptop screen down to cut off the sound. Although she only heard a line, Joss knew it was a woman's voice and he always played his cards close to his chest so it wasn't her place to ask. "So how's Shaw getting on with the Nigerian "romance" scammers?" She asked.

He shuddered. "I shut down the feed when I heard bones snapping."

 _Sunday 21st December, 2.34am, Joss' Apartment_

Joss had always been a light sleeper so even though she worked a late shift on Saturday she jolted when she heard the front door shut and hurried downstairs with a taser, a fistful of attitude and a pinch of patience she ready to lose on whoever was downstairs.

"Taylor Nicholas Carter, I _know_ you're not creeping in at this time of night like it's all good when you know better. Have you _lost_ your mind?"

"Not yet." John replied, flicking on the lamp in the living room.

She sighed and tried to discreetly pull the satin scarf off her head from the back. "How is it I just got on vacation and I'm already sick of you?"

"It's my charm." She would never tell him how good he looked in a light brown leather jacket and dark blue jeans, but he did. He _really_ did. "Compliments of the season."

"Oh, shove it. Where'd you get the key?"

He looked at everything in the room but her. "What key?"

"John?" Taylor asked, flicking on the light. "Why are you guys always in the dark?"

She was relieved to see him in whatever passed for pyjamas, unbeknownst to her he got home half an hour ago. "We're just talking."

He wasn't buying it. "I won't see you 'til next year so Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you, and Harold, and Sam. And the dog."

"Merry Christmas to you, too. Clay pigeons in the new year?" John replied.

"They're not _real_ pigeons, right?"

"No."

"Okay, cool." He gave them both one last look of bewilderment and went back upstairs.

"So where were we?" Joss asked, stuffing the scarf into the fold in the sofa.

"You were about to bite my head off. And I was gonna give you something."

" _Was_?" She didn't know why she felt bashful when they were alone together. Or why she was whispering. "My son's upstairs."

"He won't mind."

She was intrigued as he loaded the song on Taylor's docking station; those unmistakable high-pitch strings and a voice as warm and smooth as butter. _"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose. Yuletide carols being sung by a choir and folks dressed up like Eskimos…"_

"I'm warning you; I have two left feet." He told her, dispelling the myth about bad dancers being bad lovers.

Her fingers slotted behind his neck and she stood on the balls of her feet. "Just sway. Left to right."

His hands slid down to the small of her back and just a few seconds in it was already apparent he didn't know what to do with his feet. " _…And every mother's child is gonna spy to see if reindeer really know how to fly…_ "

She inhaled and the scent of smoke was strong. _Must have been another burning car_ , she thought. "You're not that bad."

He kissed her cheek. "You don't have to lie. But I appreciate it."

"I mean it; it's already better than prom."

"You got a story for me?"

"Well, it's not as good as yours and there's no butter."

"You said you wouldn't hold it against me."

"And I don't." She laughed until she snorted. "Okay, my mom thought the dress _I_ liked with the leg split made me look like a floozie so I ended up in a poofy mint-green ball gown with a guy who got dumped two weeks before and got over it by dry-humping me to My Prerogative, getting drunk and throwing up in his car."

"Are you serious?"

"Oh, there's more. After I drove _us_ home so I could make my _12.30_ curfew, my hair got drenched in the rain. Ugh, asshole."

It was his turn to laugh. "So that's why you can't get your hair wet."

"That…and I'm a black woman."

"I noticed. That…and the Taser in your pocket."

She felt the empty fleece pockets of her nightgown. "Is that what you call magic?"

"No. I left something behind though, hopefully you'll find it before you leave." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, and something in her stomach melted even though the music had stopped playing; she just took it in, the sounds of their breathing, and couldn't open her mouth. In fact, she couldn't move, as though she had pressed pause on their time together. "Merry Christmas, Joss." He said, after a while.

"Merry Christmas, John. And thanks for coming." She stroked his face. "I wish I had something to give you." He smiled, because she already had.

 _7.16am, Joss' Apartment_

Gregory could count on one hand the number of times he'd been to the brownstone because Evelyn liked to hold court on her own turf. He found Joss to be a principled woman, an excellent mother but a very private and guarded person, hence she still called him Mr Gregory after six years of knowing each other. Taylor brought the last bag downstairs and Evelyn was waiting with a lunch box of flapjacks, an apology somewhere deep inside she would never actually utter and Gregory's observation ringing in her ears. "Did I embarrass you in front of your little girlfriend?"

"Not really." He lied; the truth was he was mortified but Isabella found her hysterical.

"Are you sure? 'Cause you can tell me." She whispered, noticing Gregory's grin in the corner of her eye.

"It was…a bit much. But it doesn't matter. Is that lemon drizzle?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Of course, just for you." She cleared her throat and leaned in like she always did when she wanted information. "Did he tell when he's getting married?"

"He's not."

"Just foolishness." She grumbled, looking to the ceiling. "Anyway, did the mystery man bring her a Christmas present?"

"I don't know, Gram."

She reluctantly gave him the flapjacks even though she didn't have what she wanted in exchange. What she got instead was surprisingly rewarding. The gleam of the silver star on top of the pre-decorated table-top Christmas tree caught her eye. She read the inscription to herself. "U.S. Marshal."

Joss was the last one downstairs and the new air about her was unmissable, along with warm raspberry lipstick and the hooped earrings. Evelyn figured whatever John was doing was working because her daughter was dressed like 'the new 26' and looked better than all her nieces combined. "You guys, ready?"

Evelyn couldn't contain herself and threw her arm around her and squeezed. "A U.S. Marshal, Jocelyn? Well. Done. What grade is he?"


	53. Chapter 53

_A/N: This is inspired by the Christmas clapback hashtag and all the love you guys have for Evelyn._ _  
_

 _They say you can never go home..._

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Sunday 21st December, 2.02pm, Aunt Tulip's House, Summerville, South Carolina_

In another time, and another life, Summerville was the place Joss saw herself raising her children and growing old. Back when she and Paul were newly-married college grads, their first Thanksgiving was spent dreaming up things they would do when they were older; according to their plans, they would've had two sons and a daughter, a five-bedroomed house with a half-acre backyard, she would've had a boutique law firm and he would've put his mathematical brain to good use in business. But life wasn't the stuff of dreams and all of their hopes were shot down through divorce, secondary infertility, PTSD, war, two honorable discharges and years apart.

Aunt Tullie's house was a powerful reminder of her idealism and her youth, but the oak trees and the wide veranda were a comfort. "You look _good_ , Aunt Tullie. If it wasn't for the boot, I couldn't tell you had surgery." Joss shelled another pistachio and rested her feet on an overturned plant pot.

"Thanks baby. Can you _believe_ that doctor said I have to wait _six_ whole months before I can wear heels again? I have _high_ arches; they want me all flat-footed like Camellia."

Joss knew, between her aunts, laughter counted as collusion. "Where is aunt Cammie, anyway?"

"She's coming next week. You know she's always late; tryna make an entrance with her _third_ husband. Next time she tells you about being a jazz singer in Paris, just know she means Paris, Ontario." Her snort betrayed she was on #TeamTullie, for now at least. "Taylor's looking more like Joe every day."

"I know; sometimes I have to do a double take."

"And speaking of daddies, how is that Paul with his fine self? I heard he's having a mid-life crisis." She sipped her tea and waited for Joss to spill hers.

"I wouldn't call it that."

"Always a diplomat." She rubbed her shoulder against her niece's. "You don't have to be nice about it. You know I can keep a secret." She spotted Evelyn, Gregory and their baby sister Rosalind in the distance, approaching from the creek. "I'm the only one in the family who can."

Joss was silent because it was true; Aunt Tullie was the secret-keeper, Evelyn was the blabber, Cammie held far too many secrets of her own to be a worthy confidant and Rosalind wasn't much of a listener in the first place. "Well, at first I was stunned 'cause if he went this long, I thought he didn't want any more kids. And I don't want Taylor to feel slighted, you know? 'Cause he wasn't there for him."

"I see." Although Evelyn never thought Paul was a worthy suitor for her daughter, Tullie thought he was rough around the edges like her first husband; in her mind, women had been loving troubled men since the beginning of time, and she and Joss weren't the type to leave them at the doorstep.

"I guess it made it clear that I'm gonna be alone again when Taylor leaves; it's so easy to wrap yourself up in someone else's life."

"Alone?" The look in her eyes showed she'd already been briefed by Evelyn on the mystery man who knew his way around guns, used to be in the service, and was a U.S. Marshal named John who liked the Huskies and was probably from Washington state.

Joss wasn't surprised it was already news. "John's a…special case. I don't know where we're going or if we're going at all…and sometimes we move so fast it makes my head spin."

"He goes to your head."

"Yeah."

"Love'll do that."

"Tell me about it."

Tullie played with her hooped earring and for a moment, she felt like a little girl. "Life is an adventure, Joss, so many twists and turns. But when you're going heels to Jesus, enjoy the ride."

 _3.30pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst_

Looking in the mirror Monique didn't think she had a bump even though she was 19 weeks, instead it looked like she had a big lunch, but Ron and everyone else at the gym knew she was pregnant now and there was no turning back. Not to mention how sick she'd been feeling all week when she thought she was past the morning sickness for good. There was no chance of driving to Rochester now and although she missed her sister and the kids, she had a legitimate reason to avoid her mother. Considering she'd never spent a Christmas with her father, there was something poignant about spending the holidays alone with Paul while his son had a ball in another state.

"You feel better?" He asked, wiping off the sweat from his workout in the garage.

"Kinda. My chest feels a bit tight."

"You wanna see the doctor?" She shook her head. "What'd she say last time?"

"I don't remember." She lied; Doctor Egans told her it was a symptom of her anxiety but she didn't want to bring it up because that was what Paul saw Susan for every week. "I need some fresh air."

"I can drive you to the park." He offered.

"It's okay, I just need a minute to myself."

 _Wednesday 24th December 7.16pm, Aunt Tulip's House, Summerville, South Carolina_

True to form, Aunt Cammie made a grand entrance in a mauve evening gown on her portly new husband's arm. Her daughter Carolyn had already been waiting at the table for over an hour with the rest of the family, with her locs recently dyed bright red as she wore them just to infuriate her mother. Just a year and a day older than Evelyn they had competed for the top spot their entire lives; when Cammie announced she was engaged to a nice boy from their church at the age of seventeen, Evelyn stole her thunder by strongly implying she was pregnant so their mother would consent to her marrying Josiah at sixteen. A few hours after they jumped the broom, Evelyn confirmed her virginity in the church utility room and stuck her tongue out while Cammie was touching up her makeup at the wedding reception. And so, Cammie had never forgiven her.

"Family, this is Hamilton." Cammie announced. "Hamilton, this is…" Evelyn glared at her as she pretentiously ran off the name of each family member as though they weren't all hungry.

"Welcome." Tullie said with a smile, ever the diplomat herself. "God is great, God is good, let us thank him for our food. Amen."

The response was so instant, it was desperate. " _A-men!_ "

 _8.03pm, Finch's Penthouse, Tribeca_

After seeing Grace's head bobbing along to Rockin' around the Christmas tree in Washington Square Park for the fourth time, Shaw couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Who is she and why are you torturing yourself like this?" She exclaimed, shifting Bear's attention from the bone.

Finch blinked and thought of an appropriate response to her violating his privacy. " _She_ is Grace. And I don't have an answer for your second question. I do, however, have a project I'm working on with Detective Carter and I'd like to get back to it."

"The hit list, I know." He was eyeing the door and envisioning her disappearing through it. "I said I'd tail the British drug trafficker. Look if you can't stop for me or yourself, do it for the dog; Bear's getting depressed."

 _8.19pm, Aunt Tulip's House, Summerville, South Carolina_

Of the four sisters, Rosalind "the ditzy one" had the easiest ride in life. As the surprise baby born four years after Tullie, shattering her parents' dreams of having a son, Rosie quickly became Mama's favourite, so much so she never grew her own wings. Living just down the street, every time she ventured out of South Carolina, she'd come right back. The family all thought she was crazy to drop out of Teacher training to marry a car repair man with callous hands until he went on to have six garages and she inherited his entire estate. Rosie was sitting pretty in life; as the only sister to have had more than one child, five actually, and to have sustained a living by being pretty and more or less keeping her mouth shut.

After the third rabbit and mushroom pie was finished (Taylor thought it was chicken), she decided to break her blissful silence with a question that was loaded enough to stir the pot. "So Jocelyn, what's this I hear about you dating a white man?"

The only sound beside the old cuckoo clock that belonged to her grandmother was the fork Taylor dropped when she was put in the hot seat. He sympathised through the same squirming he felt in his stomach when Isabella was asked if she had a 'church home' and if she ever had mono. "I'm seeing a man named John and yes, he's white."

"Good for you, Josie-Jo." Carolyn cheered her cousin on with a tip of the glass. "Get love where you can find it."

"You weren't saying that when you were all "Black Panther Love" with Jason, or shall I say, Jamal Abdul Jabbar?" Cammie expressed her disapproval at her first born's hairstyle through her other criticisms.

"All I'm saying mother, is love is love. And for the record, it was the Fruit of Islam."

Joss appreciated her efforts but she knew Carolyn was just an umbrella in a monsoon rain. "So where is he?" Rosie asked.

"Working. In the city." She replied, finding it easier to stay on the side of the truth.

"We would've _loved_ to meet him, Jocelyn." Cammie chipped in as Hamilton topped up her wine. "Unless he didn't _want_ to be here with us."

"You know; I might have a frat brother in New York. Would you consider a Sigma man?" Hamilton suggested, to the delight of his wife.

"See there? Plenty of fine men, still available. Sigma men who don't keep their women a _secret_ or romance them in the _dark_." Cammie twisted the knife and shot forty-four years of venom at being beaten to the altar back at her sister.

Evelyn locked eyes with her daughter like they did when she was young and afraid; they were activating a superpower unlocked with the permission to let them have it. Joss inhaled, and Taylor sank an inch into his seat wishing he didn't have to see it. "Thanks for your concern, Aunt Cammie, how's Uncle Arnie's business doing? Investments, right?" Evelyn licked her lips at the mention of her elder sister's second husband, he who must not be named; the one who ruined her credit and rode off into the sunset in a car in her name. "And Aunty Rosie, he is white. He's also there; there when I need him, then when Taylor needs a…" _Hostage rescuer, shooting instructor, dating advisor…_ "… _Coach_. And he was there when I got shot. Twice. So, any questions?"

Cammie cleared her throat and resolved not to address Jocelyn directly until she apologised. Instead, she produced a story almost out of thin air. "When I was in _Paris_ , singing the _classics_ with the _Shelton_ G. Clancy _Orchestra we_ …"

 _Christmas Day, 9.29am, Aunt Tulip's House, Summerville, South Carolina_

Even though his cousin Reggie clowned him all the way to SC State and back over his slow-moving relationship with Isabella; Taylor got the last laugh when his Christmas gift came in the form of an mp3 of her playing the flute in place of the hook and the bridge on Money Trees. It was only the death glare from his mom, Carolyn, after hearing "ya bish" the third time that stopped them playing it all morning.

Evelyn was so self-satisfied she won the battle in the lifelong war against Cammie, she hummed the Donny Hathaway song as she made breakfast for Gregory. Still high off the adrenaline buzz only a socially-acceptable, nice-nasty clapback could bring, Joss was further elevated by the call on the burner phone that would bring her crashing down to terra firma.

"Merry Christmas, Detective." Finch started.

"Merry Christmas, Harold." She greeted warmly. "What's up? You don't sound like you."

He inhaled and looked down at the almost blue skin on the dead body in Shaw's loft. "Detective Fusco's out of town and I was wondering when you're coming back."

"Is it urgent? Do you need me? Is it John?" She asked the last question in a lower tone of voice.

"No. But we do have a situation." He could still make out the scar on the dead man's face. "Anthony Marconi is dead…and we need your help."


	54. Chapter 54

_A/N: Credit to Patra.  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Christmas Day, 9.33am, Aunt Tulip's House, Summerville, South Carolina_

Joss wished she could say she didn't have experience in moving bodies but that wasn't true; Detective Stills's cadaver still hadn't been found yet. It was a great shock to hear the man better known as Scarface, who she called Anthony, the lifelong right-hand man to Elias, who kidnapped her son at gunpoint three years ago, was dead. All Finch told her was; not long after her flight took off, Anthony's number came up and due to his low profile and expert camera avoidance, he was _almost_ impossible to track. Bad things came in threes: the warehouse in New Hyde Park where she last saw Elias was now a high heap of rubble after a gas explosion, Araceli Fuentes fired and quickly replaced the lawyer for her murder case and Shaw found Anthony's dead body at the scene along with three others, just minutes before cops flooded the place.

She sat on the bed and thought things through as best as she could with Rosie on the other side of the locked door, asking who she was riding with to church.

"Detective, are you still there?" Finch asked.

"Yeah. Uhhh…check the police report to see if anyone saw Shaw on the scene and tell her, she's better off blonde for now. As for A-" She couldn't speak his name, even though she was whispering. "Find Donald Campioni, he'll lead you to Elias, and I'm sure he'll want his friend back. And Harold, have John call me; we need to talk."

The line went dead and Joss got her bearings, applied another layer of lipstick and opened the door. "Are you still mad about last night?" Rosie asked, as if she wasn't the instigator.

"No, I'm fine. Just looking forward to the choir."

"Because you can date _all_ the white men you want, if it makes you happy. I don't _understand_ it but I guess that's what y'all do in the City. Was that him on the phone?"

 _10.04am, Shaw's loft, Soho_

John didn't know what was worse, Finch's distress at the smell of the dead body or the fact he and Shaw would have to handle it discretely on the day most people in the city came together in hunger and harmony. He didn't bother to ask why Shaw was wearing a blonde pixie cut or lining a large suitcase with plastic. "What happened?" John asked.

"It's a long story." Shaw replied, handing Finch a paper bag.

"We need to rethink how we work together." Finch suggested, before making use of it.

 _1.42pm, Whispering Creek, Summerville, South Carolina_

After over two hours of church and greeting people who swore they remembered her when she didn't at all, Joss finally got a moment alone at the creek half a mile behind her aunt's house. There was something teenage about sneaking off for privacy, but the reality of their situation was far more adult. She considered the possibility of Araceli selling out Anthony, the same way Elias they sold out Araceli, but if that was true the woman was as good as dead even if she was currently being held at Rosie's on Riker's Island.

"John." She said his name out of relief at hearing his voice. "What are we gonna do?"

"You're not gonna _do_ anything 'cause you're on vacation. I'll take care of it."

"That's cute but-"

"I mean it, Joss. The further away you are from this the better. Besides, didn't you say Taylor needed a decent break? How's he gonna feel if you come back to New York without him?"

She couldn't tell if he was looking out for her or he just wanted to minimise the damage; she really wanted to believe the former. "Okay, so what am I supposed to do here?"

"Enjoy your vacation." He said, curtly.

"John,"

He sighed because he was waiting for her to tell him it was his fault, or that she loved him; either of which he couldn't hear right now. "I mean it; you haven't seen most of your family in years, right?"

She was surprised. "You listened."

"I do that sometimes. Will you listen to me?" She didn't answer because she didn't want to lie. "Look, something came up. I'll call you."

"Okay."

Her wheels were spinning full force and the last thing she could think of doing was relax, especially when her son had come looking for her. "Ma, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Her pitch was too high for him to believe her. "Did you call Dad?"

"Yeah. He sounds good, even though the meatloaf's made of seitan. And he got me Suite Box soccer tickets. Are you sure you're okay? You've been kinda off all morning."

She could always trust him to be perceptive. "I'm good, I promise."

He scratched his neck just like his father did when he wanted to ask a sensitive question. "Are you upset about last night? You know, what they said about you and John."

"For the most part, no. But it stung a little." Another thought crossed her mind. "Have you heard anything like that; about you and Isabella?"

"No; most people think she's black…except for her last name."

"I see. Well if you do, it's _their_ problem not yours. And a girl who survived Grandma's little grilling is worth it." He tried not to smile. "How come you let them meet her and not me?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "It's just easier."

After the interrogation, she couldn't argue with him. " _So_ , did you get her a gift?"

"Ma," He groaned because he couldn't catch a break from any of the women in the family and had spent the car ride home answering questions about his "little friend".

"What? It's just a question." She elbowed him as they walked back to the house. "

He sighed. "Are you gonna tell Grandma that's not John's star and he's not a U.S. Marshal? 'Cause she told _everybody_."

"Aghhhh." She moaned, sympathising with him. "At some point. Let her have this one, you know how she and Aunt Cammie get."

"Yeah. They need a referee in there." She smiled. "Round two: _who's gonna make the potato salad?_ What's up with them?"

"Ma was the first to the altar _and_ the delivery table and Aunt Cammie never likes to be outdone."

 _7.31pm, Howard Beach, Queens_

Elias was so bereft upon seeing the body of his No. 1 comrade John couldn't gauge what his next act would be and whether it would include a bomb, a machine gun or a plane. All he was sure of was this was his fault and it was just a matter of time before the Team, and Joss in particular, found out.

 _10.53pm, Aunt Tulip's House, Summerville, South Carolina_

When Joss was full of food and tired of dancing with her light-footed, dapper Uncle Sterling, she snuck upstairs with her cousin Carolyn with a swiped bottle of cognac, two cans of coke and some red cups. John hadn't called and she had a bad feeling he wouldn't.

 _"…Man is not a man if 'im a nah worker man, man is not a man if he cya'an go ten furlong…"_

She felt the buzz even stronger as they lay on the bed laughing about Round 3, where Cammie asked Evelyn when she and Gregory were getting married during dinner prep and 'accidentally' over-salted her younger sister's gravy.

"They're a mess." Carolyn said, pouring a cup that was more liquor than coke. "J.J.?"

"Yeah?"

"What's it like?" She stared long enough for Joss to know she was asking about John. " _You_ know,"

"It's just like being with a black man except he wears more suits." Joss sat up. "You know what's really crazy?"

"What?"

"For the longest time I just wanted to be understood; I don't think I ever was. I guess that's why he does it for me."

 _"…I want a real teddy bear, no matter how big I don't care; one who can love me up and pour juice in my cup…"_

Carolyn was suddenly all out of questions. "Just 'cause I like my coffee black don't mean I can't see the difference in you. And speaking of black coffee, have you seen that Idris Elba with his fine ass? I watch Luther with the sound off."


	55. Chapter 55

_A/N: Wish I had something poetic or profound to say here :)  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _New Year's Eve, Wednesday 31st December 2014, 2.10pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst_

For Paul, the Christmas holidays of 2013 consisted of taking Taylor to and from the hospital where Joss was being held under observation, consoling him, and eating whatever food Evelyn brought over. Taylor wasn't in the mood to celebrate anything and the stress of the situation showed up in a breakout so severe he couldn't look at himself. So despite how different things were this year, Paul was still surprised to see his son on his doorstep on New Year's Eve especially with his girlfriend in tow. Monique noticed something new about him; they never hugged. She'd seen him pat his son on the back or shoulder, sometimes give him a friendly punch in the chest, but never a full embrace. She sipped her ginger tea and watched them order pizza to celebrate Isabella's acceptance to Georgetown and catch-up about people named Cammie, Rosie, Reggie and Tullie who she'd never heard of before; feeling less and less present, and less and less included.

 _8.49pm, Rack'em Pool Hall and Bar, Hell's Kitchen_

After making her escape from Aunt Tullie's, Joss planned to find John and ask him at least 8 questions. He was the second reason why she left, the first being; if there was one thing that emotionally gut-punched her, it was having her parenting choices questioned, especially by family. When she was tag-teamed by Aunts Rosie and Cammie over why Taylor wasn't going to an HBCU when it was clear as day Howard, Hampton or FAMU could use a mind like his, it became abundantly clear that they lived in different states but it might as well have been different planets. She didn't know why they were so bothered by how she lived, offended even, and she didn't care to know why; blood was no guarantee of understanding.

John always said she knew how to find him, and today was no different. John Bowens, the Quantity Surveyor, seemed like a smart enough cover to get him into any building in the city with a flash of an ID pass. And so she found him hustling some college students, sinking the black ball for the 3rd consecutive game.

"What'd I tell you about taking the little kids' lunch money?" She asked, draping her trench-coat over a stool, as they reluctantly put down another 50 bucks and walked off cursing under their breath.

"Play with me." The pool stick in his hand said it wasn't a suggestion.

"You know I hate pool…"

 _9.41pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst_

Monique wasn't the type to change outfits but she was having trouble finding something that would mask her bump; even though it was small she hated answering questions about it. She dug around in the bottom drawer and found the maternity jeans her sister had sent. They didn't look so bad in the mirror. The long hem cream blouse fit fine. From Taylor's room down the hall, she could hear the futuristic space-sounding Kid Cudi music.

"Have you seen my shirt?" Paul asked, wearing nothing but a towel. "You know the shirt with the thing. The blue one."

She sighed. "No."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

He sat on the bed, unsure of what to do. "If you don't wanna go to Tony's I'll call him."

"I never said that."

"Then, what is it? 'Cause I don't know what you want me to do."

"The baby doesn't move and my back's killing me. And you keep making bacon when you know the smell makes me gag. Taylor's music's too loud and I can't hear myself think, _and_ you don't touch me anymore. Your shirt's in the dryer."

 _9.55pm, John Bowen's Condo, Central Park South, Manhattan_

Seeing as John was living in one of the priciest areas in the city, Joss didn't mind that his condo was more or less a studio apartment; no matter where they were it was hard to be more than 6 feet apart, and she liked that. After being so misunderstood, it was a relief to be back in the safe space they had created. This couch was comfier than the last and she lay across it with her head in his lap.

"So how was it?" He asked, stroking her hair.

"A mess. Maybe everyone else is normal and I'm crazy. I love Aunt Tullie but I feel like I've been in a time warp."

He kissed her forehead. "You're home now."

"It's a really nice place. So, what have you guys been up to and what should I expect on my desk on Friday?"

"You're going back to work on Friday?" The slight panic in his voice didn't go unnoticed.

"Yeah. What should I know?"

"Elias skipped the country and took the body to Sicily for a proper funeral. He's been busy…from a distance."

She sat up. "I'm getting too comfortable. I need you to look me in the eye when I ask you this. Why are you holding information from me? 'Cause it feels like the old days."

"You said it yourself; you can't know what you don't know. Right?"

She pushed his hair back, confident he was trying to protect her. "Right. You caused a lot of trouble with that star, John. Had my aunts losing their wigs and everything."

"Really?"

"Mmm-hmm, I missed you."

He kissed her shoulder. "I missed you too. Promise me we won't talk about crime bosses, raising hell, or body bags tonight."

"I promise."

 _Friday 2nd January 2015, 9.13am, 8th Precinct_

If Joss had any inkling of what she would talk to John about the next time they saw each other, it would start with the pile of files on Captain Miller's desk that drained her relief at being back at work for all of ten minutes. Fusco was cagey about his date over their first coffee of the new year together but Joss suspected he was on edge because he hadn't spent much time with Lee over the holidays.

The thick file for _Fuentes, Araceli_ had some new additions. "Fuentes, the perp in the Quiroga murder, was found dead in the Rose M. Singer Center on December 28th. Her throat was cut with a serrated knife and by the time her body was located, she'd bled out. Narcotics discovered a link between Quiroga and _Engaño_ , a criminal organisation said to cover six known Latin American countries." Fusco didn't have to think far to know who was behind Araceli's murder. "Fuentes changed lawyers on Christmas Eve and was seen socialising with Ramona Viernes, wife of Victor Viernes, owner of Crystal View Hotel group with properties in El Salvador and Mexico. Mrs Viernes is awaiting trial for 2nd degree perjury related to a drug possession case that fell through six months ago. I trust you'll treat this information as sensitive when you question her."


	56. Chapter 56

_A/N: This is for everyone who got snowed in this weekend. Credit to Billie Holiday, The Zombies and SWV.  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Friday 2nd January 2015, 3.38pm, Rose E. Singer Center, Riker's Island_

Ramona Viernes looked like the type of woman who didn't belong in prison; with honey blonde layered hair almost down to her waist and a full face of makeup, she looked like she should be the girlfriend in a romantic comedy or on stage singing country music, rather than awaiting trial for lying to the authorities for her husband. Joss found it fascinating how deep into the lifestyle she was and how similar they were seeing as Ramona's unwillingness to cooperate with them wasn't far off from her file shredding and DNA swapping activities. After being stonewalled for 40 minutes and having every question, no matter how unrelated, answered with, "My husband's a businessman, a hotel owner"; it was clear whatever involvement Ramona did or didn't have in Araceli's murder was going to the grave with her.

 _8.12pm, Finch's Penthouse, Tribeca_

Seeing as the last time Team Machine was in the same room at the same time, it ended in disaster Finch was jittery about how they would respond to his news. Even Bear sensed something was up because he kept following him around the penthouse; either that or he was stir crazy because Finch was hesitant about letting him go outside even though he has recovered.

"What's up with the Venn diagram?" Shaw asked, referring to the 3D chart on the display screen.

"Due to our involvement with Cruz Valverde, Xalvador Quiroga and now Ramona and Victor Viernes we're currently standing at the intersection of multiple government agencies; the FBI is investigating the gangs, the IRS has frozen the Viernes' assets in a tax evasion probe and the DEA has an open case on Quiroga for drug trafficking." Finch informed them, shakily sipping his Sencha tea. "The current murder case of Araceli Fuentes threatens our exposure on a number of levels, and seeing as Detective Carter's relationship with the FBI is fragile and the CIA are _not our friends_ ; I suggest we all proceed with caution."

Everyone was consciously or subconsciously staring at John. "What? I've been working on Elias' hit list. The Thai ambassador was a non-starter. As for the weapons dealer, I'm still looking for a lead."

"I mean, _teamwork_."

"I'm not a liability, Harold."

"You mind not doing this in front of the kids?" Fusco drew attention to how much they argued like a married couple. "Viernes owns the Crystal View Hotel Group which owns Villa Azul Marino – the resort Leon got his ass kicked selling bogus timeshares for."

"Technically it was his knee. And there was no kicking, just a baseball bat and a really good swing." Shaw corrected him. "Where _is_ Leon? Back under a rock?"

"Something like that." Finch hinted.

Joss exhaled. "We hear you, Harold. And we've got a number of ideas about who slit Araceli's throat. Obviously Elias tops the list, but if she was freelancing it could've been payback for wet work, and then there's the Hoja gang she left a few years ago and their rivals…and their rivals. The current list stands at 42. As for Ramona, she's waiting for the case to fall apart, and if not, she'll do the time. I don't see her getting her hands dirty, 'cause she's looking at four years."

Finch had a proposition he held little faith in. "Can we all agree to operate as a unit going forward?"

 _9.46pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst_

"Bye Mr Carter" were words Paul was used to hearing from Isabella's mouth before she hurried home, he still hadn't figured out why she was so uncomfortable around him especially since he always tried to be nice to her. Because her Uncle Lupe was waiting outside in a hatchback and she could hardly pack up her stuff fast enough, Taylor was acting mannish again.

"Is something up with her?" Paul asked as Taylor searched the fridge for a soda. "Did you guys fight?"

"No." He said through gritted teeth, finding the soda behind the avocados and feta cheese.

"She's not…nah, she can't be."

"Not what?"

Paul cocked his head towards the door which led to the living room. "You know."

"Pregnant?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing seeing as his dad was a month away from 45 and had a baby on the way. "You're serious?"

"Taylor. You spend _all_ your time with her, we barely see you 'cause you're always in your room and I thought you said you'd keep the door open." Taylor drank his soda and waited for his dad to finish. "So it's not crazy for me to ask with the way she bolted out of here."

"She's not."

"Look, Tay, just-"

He wasn't in the mood for another safe-sex talk with Monique on the warpath upstairs. "I know."

"What's up with you? You're so different these days…"

 _11.24pm, John Bowen's Condo, Central Park South, Manhattan_

 _"It's the time of the season when love runs high. In this time, give it to me easy and let me try with pleasured hands to take you in the sun to promised lands, to show you every one. It's the time of the season for loving…"_

"… _What's your name? Who's your daddy?"_ Joss mockingly sang along with the wireless speaker. "I never got that."

"Got what? It's just a song." John licked the sticky rib sauce off his fingers, now he understood why they were so into Thai food.

She rolled her eyes. "The whole 'daddy' thing. Like, for goodness sake, just find your father."

He burst out laughing, and it crossed her mind she's never seen him laugh until he snorted. He cracked jokes often – terrible, corny and gross jokes – but he never laughed like that. "You're one of a kind, Joss Carter."

He still made her feel bashful. And young. And free. Or maybe that was the beer. "This is some good stuff."

"Of course it is; it's from Washington. You know only four bars stock it here." His third bottle was empty, her second was half-full. "We got called into the principal's office today."

She rested her chin on his shoulder. "Finch means well."

"D'you think I'm a loose cannon?" He didn't know what answer he wanted her to give.

"I think…you're as wild and free as a mustang, and that's alright with me."

 _Saturday 3rd January 2015, 8.18am, John Bowen's Condo, Central Park South, Manhattan_

Sex too good had her feeling around under the sheets with her foot for her underwear thinking she should stop letting sex with John have so much power over her but she didn't know how to stop. How could she pull away when she was too weak at the knees to even stand? He went to her head like the kicker in a julep or two chased down with absinthe, drugging her body with enough adrenaline and daring to forget she had a job much less a shift that afternoon. His side of the bed was empty and that was good, because she could get her clothes together and head out to the gym pretending she wasn't doing the walk of shame. But then it hit her nose, that unmistakeable and comforting scent of eggs. She decided it was worth staying a little longer.


	57. Chapter 57

_A/N: This is also for everyone who got snowed in this weekend.  
_

 _Random note: The bee line is inspired by grandma (BaMama) who once said about men and women "Have you ever seen a flower chase a bee?"_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Saturday 3rd January 2015, 7.56pm, Evelyn's Condo, Williamsburg, Brooklyn_

Joss had suspicions her mother had been taking lessons in hypochondria from Aunt Tullie with her dramatic spiel on the phone. The truth was, Evelyn knew her daughter would come running if she said she needed her. And she thought when she was tired after a long shift, she'd agree to her latest request.

"I think John should join us for lunch on Sunday." Evelyn announced, even though it was just the two of them in fuzzy slippers in the living room.

"No." Joss replied simply.

Evelyn wasn't used to hearing the word 'no' or accepting it as a valid answer. "And why not?"

"We're not there yet."

"Can you tell me where _there_ is and _when_ you plan to get there? From where I'm standing it's been a while."

"It really hasn't, Ma." She scrolled through her phone. "And I said I'd go through Taylor's college apps again so, unless you need me I gotta go."

Evelyn didn't like where this was going e.g. not in the direction she desired. Gregory once told her she was the type to take a horse to water and tell it where, when and how much to drink; luckily he was in the city playing bossa nova music with one of his old students' bands. "Don't let my silly sisters get to you, Jocelyn; Cammie's a great pretender at being happy and Rosie's always starting trouble for attention. So, how old is he?"

"Older than me." She didn't know his real age, nor did she care. By his taste in music she guessed he was a few years off 50.

"Ahhh. Your hair looks nice. Real pretty."

"Thanks Ma,"

"Tell me again why you got that _second_ treatment this week?"

"Ma…" She groaned; Janelle sold her out again.

"Fine, fine, fine. Can you believe Cammie asked when me and Gregory are getting married? The _nerve_."

"What'd you tell her?"

"When Hamilton's the Biggest Loser."

 _9.06pm, Joss' apartment_

The changes were so subtle over time Joss hadn't noticed her son was changing into a different person until now. He smelt like a stand at the mall where they handed out body wash and perfume samples, he dressed better, walked differently, and she couldn't figure out what he was doing to his hair except it took a long time to do it. She suspected Evelyn had a strong point when she said he was acting mannish and his "little friend" had a lot to do with that.

"So what'd you think of the last paragraph?" He asked, bringing her back to the present. For some reason it was easier for them to work on the living room floor, resting on cushions. "Bella's was really creative, and it worked."

She smiled. "I think it needs more you in it. So she's made up her mind already?"

"Yeah, that's the only one she wanted so she doesn't care what the others say." He rubbed the back of his neck because he hadn't submitted an application yet while she was already going to one of the best pre-med programmes on the planet.

"Is there anything she's not good at?" Joss asked, not looking up from her laptop.

He thought for a while. "Calculus, video games and admitting when she's wrong. And she never backs down from an argument. _Ever_." Sounds like my kinda girl, she thought. "Why's it such a big deal for her to come over here?"

"Who said it was a big deal?" She asked, scanning through his essay to University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.

Whereas she had mentally blocked out her trip to South Carolina, the voices of his great-aunts were ringing in his ears. "Everyone."

"Tay, I'm curious. I'm always hearing about her from other people. It'd be nice to meet her but it's not up to me; it's up to you."

He sighed and changed subject before he made a promise he had no intention of keeping. "Did you see what I wrote to Penn? The writing supplement?"

"Yeah, it's great but I think you went over the word limit. You could lose the third sentence; it flows better that way."

"I see what you mean. God, I can't wait for this to be over."

There was something in his tone and the way he threw his head back that told her it wasn't just the college apps that were weighing down on him. "What's up, Tay?"

"I heard Monique on the phone; saying she wished she wasn't pregnant."

Joss tried not to react. "I see."

"You see?" He asked, bemused by her neutrality.

She didn't want to explain that her pregnancy had many up-and-downs and what role his dad played in that; because it wasn't worth it. "She's midterm, Tay. It's understandable she's emotional and feeling down. I promise she'll get through it. We all do. But you can't change how she feels; just be kind, like I told you. She'll appreciate it."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I hear you. What'd you think about the one for U of I?"

"I think it's good to go, can't see you living in Champaign come winter though. Can't see you living anywhere but here, but anyway…"

"Don't be sad, Ma. I'll come visit."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Where else will I leave my laundry?"

She messed with his hair. "Cornball."

 _9.34pm, Seagate, Brooklyn_

Almost crippled by grief, Elias found solace in resolving to become greater than ever. He was fuelled by thoughts of revenge and inspired by the teenage dream of his most loyal companion; to rule the world. It had been a while since he saw Bruce Moran, and their fraternal embrace solidified their bond was still strong. After all, the beachfront property belonged to Bruce anyway, although he was living as a financial portfolio manager named Steven D'Amici.

It was a relief to be seated with people who shared his vision; Donald Campioni and his wife Rossella, the lawyer, took their place around the cherry wood table. This was so much more than uniting the five families or reclaiming his (half) birthright; this was the dawn of a new era of opportunity that blurred the lines between legitimate business and organised crime.

Elias raised his glass for the first of seven courses. "Salute!"

"Salute!"

 _11.54pm, Joss' apartment_

After hours of proofreading and rewriting, they were finally satisfied Taylor was ready to press send and put the matter of his college acceptances in God's and seven Admissions departments' hands. She knew working so many Saturdays wasn't good for her health, but it was good for her bank account and it was her son's tuition money after all. She tried to wash and rub away her stress with the sugar scrub Janelle said smelled like raspberries and honey and attracted men like bees.

And there he was, waiting on her bed again with his navy blazer hanging over her wicker chair and his cufflinks on the nightstand. Whether she smelled like raspberries or honey, she would never know, all she knew was he didn't miss a beat slipping his hands inside her royal blue flannel dressing gown and tongue-kissing her navel. Subconsciously, she was standing on her tiptoes in anticipation of what was coming because John never gave her fever; he set her body alight and she slow-burned like embers and fell apart like charred coals and flashed red with a gentle blow in her ear and came with the intensity of water on oil; until there was nothing left to do or think about. Until the phone rang. Until he slipped away in the early hours of the morning. Until she came down like a junkie feenin' with the fervour of a young K-Ci Hailey in his prime.

And just like that; sex too good put trouble in their path.


	58. Chapter 58

_A/N: Credit to Amy Winehouse for inspiration "You know I'm no good" and a massive Thanks to everyone who stuck around. I promise the next fic will be lighter lol...  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Two weeks later, Thursday 15th January, 4.27pm, Rose E. Singer Center, Riker's Island_

Bad things come in threes, or so the saying goes. It was all going too well, she should've known that, and they _all_ should've known better. The ball of yarn started to unravel at lunchtime the day before when the inmates tasked with Ramona Viernes' protection found there was no money added to their commissary accounts. Joss' first impression of her not looking like the type of woman who belonged in prison proved to be right, as they expressed their displeasure with a shank through her hand at lunchtime. On their second meeting. Ramona had less makeup on, a side-effect of spending the night on the hospital ward, and a bandage wrapped around her left hand. She appeared shaken about this kind of thing happening to her considering who her husband was and the prospect of rejoining general population with a target on her back, but she was as uncooperative as ever. Luckily for Detectives Carter and Fusco, Bianca Doore, an inmate who may or may not have witnessed Araceli's murder was willing to talk in exchange for a kind word to the judge on her Second Degree Gang Assault case.

"Tell us what you know Bianca." Fusco said, thinking he was probably going to be late for his date with Cynthia.

"So I was on the yard playing checkers when Araceli said The Big Man was working with the cops and sold her out for that guy, Scar or Simba or something. Anyway she said she knew how to get to him but she needed protection."

"What kind of protection?" Joss asked, trying not to draw attention to the corrupt cop allegation.

"The lawyer said she was looking at 30 years, so…'bout 30 years? She didn't trust him; something 'bout a deal gone bad."

"Did she mention the cop's name?" Fusco ran through his mental rolodex for a match.

"Nah, Ramona wasn't interested; she wanted to know more about that guy, _Scar_. And then she was dead the next day. But I don't know who did it. Now, 'bout my sentence…"

 _6.25pm, Cup o' Joe Café, Brighton Beach_

Of all her covers Shaw didn't mind being Stacey, the blonde barista because people didn't try to engage her in conversation. Usually they were on the phone while making their ridiculous seven-word orders without knowing she made all their drinks practically the same. Finch was trying to get a jump start on Elias' next move tracking down his old friend Bruce Moran, or Steven D'Amici as he was now known. From her view behind the percolator, his nose job and a face lift were pretty impressive. And on her break, she lifted fingerprints off his cup.

 _8.45pm, 8th Precinct_

Fusco ended up cancelling their date, much to Cynthia's displeasure. He was still being secretive about her, so much so he cloned her phone before Finch had the chance to. Joss was engrossed by her computer, not so much work but Taylor's upcoming Valentine's Junior/Senior Spring formal which was going to set her back at least 500 dollars. Fusco had his suspicions about her relationship with Elias, but didn't think she was on the take...for now.

"Bianca Doore, 23, no priors. Must've got lucky."

"No faith at all, Fusco? You don't think she _really_ wants to go straight and turn her life around?" They both snickered at the thought of it being that easy.

"I still processing how they made a shank from a hair brush."

"I know, right?" Joss felt around for candy at the bottom of her purse. "I think Bianca was onto something though,"

"You think Araceli did wet work for Elias, he screwed her over, so she sold Scarface out and got her throat slit?"

"Pretty much. 30 years is a long time and you can't pay for that kind of protection-"

"Unless you got someone like Viernes in your corner."

"Viernes, with the frozen assets. The IRS is probably looking at hidden assets right now."

"I hear BVI's pretty nice this time of year." Fusco broke of the right corner of his apple pastry.

They didn't have much time to ruminate as the new Police Aide, Nathan, was standing awkwardly by their desk. His predecessor left for lunch in tears before Christmas and never returned. Due to his youth, mild manner and ability to be so quiet, they often forgot he was around. "Nathan, do you need something?" Joss asked, hoping he wasn't there to bring up the clean desk policy as hers was a mess.

"Captain Miller wants to meet with you at 10am tomorrow morning. It's urgent."

"Just me? Not Fusco?"

"No, just you." He awkwardly smoothed down a post-it reminder on her desk.

"What's up with that kid?" Fusco asked, when he was out of earshot.

"Mom died in Iraq, an IED took her out, and Dad's been on a downward spiral ever since. Only child."

"How'd you know this stuff?"

"It's in the eyes, Fusco…and his profile."

 _11.19pm, Seagate, Brooklyn_

Shaw's scowl faded somewhat when John slid into the passenger's seat with the beef taco, chili cheese fries and a tray of glazed doughnuts she requested. "No chocolate shake? Cheapskate."

"Charm School drop-out." He had more important things on his mind than their sibling squabble like, infrared night vision, how he could get Marshal Jennings' star back for a while without upsetting Joss, and Dominik Ondrej, the Slovakian weapons dealer on Finch's hit-list who made contact with Steven four days prior.

 _Friday 16th January, 9.58am, 8th Precinct_

Sometimes Joss got a strange feeling around Captain Miller, there was something familiar about him but she could never understand why he looked at her the way he did; intense and almost inappropriate. Today he was visibly under pressure, that much was obvious from the beads of sweat on the side of his forehead. "Judge Lassiter threw the Valverde murder out of court this morning due to a new development."

She tried to control her reaction. "What new development, Captain?"

He gulped down half a bottle of sports drink. "The DNA match to Sean Barclay was contested when a video of Barclay and his friends at a Gentleman's club surfaced, refuting the claim he was in the area when Valverde was shot to death. Tell me what happened."

She could've swallowed her own tongue in trepidation. "I assisted dispatch because we were short-staffed, it was about 7.20am. A woman called and said she'd come across the body when she was walking her dog." He nodded. "The 103rd Precinct picked up the body and a few weeks later they arrested Sean Barclay."

"The FBI has an open case on Sean Barclay regarding four unsolved murders, so they're reopening the investigation. I trust you'll co-operate."

"Of course." Joss replied, wondering how she'd got in this deep and how she would make it out, with John. And just like that; sex too good had a government agency on their heel.


	59. Chapter 59

_A/N: Credit to Adriana Evans whose song "Looking for your love" inspired this fic to begin with. Random fact: She sang the theme for Noah's ARC. Even more random fact: I interviewed Patrik Ian Polk for my dissertation at uni.  
_

 _Thanks to everyone for reading and_ **SWWoman, Killer Mike's Biggest Fan** _and_ **QueenJessicaPearson** _for keeping me going._

 _I ready to embrace a new challenge and write something new so this is the final chapter. This catalogue of characters has grown quite big and hard-to-manage so this ends about 5 weeks before Body Count starts. Fun fact: I thought I could write it in real time so it actually starts on 6 March 2015 (the real time thing didn't work out because life is...but anyways)._

 _I promised the next fic will be lighter, but you know me by now lol...  
_

 _As always, enjoy._

* * *

 _Friday 16th January, 6.28pm, 8th Precinct_

The last time Joss worked closely with FBI Agents, John ended up at Riker's, Mark Snow ended up dead, and she failed the polygraph spectacularly; not because she lied, but because of her association with Cal Beecher. This time around, she was assisting a small team in reinvestigating the Valverde murder and trying to protect John again. She had a feeling something bad was going to happen, as though she was The Machine herself, and she had to stop it. She threw her gym bag in her backseat and froze for a few seconds because she felt like she was being watched.

 _7.36pm, Paul's House, Elmhurst_

Paul had the feeling he was seeing less and less of his son and today was no exception, even though he and Monique had good news from the doctor. Even though he wished his son would get out of his hipster phase and stop wearing plaid shirts with every outfit, he appreciated that he cared more about how he looked.

Paul leaned against the wall. "So what are you guys doing tonight?"

"Watching _The Boy Next Door_. What's up?"

"Not much, we went to the doctor today."

"What'd she say?" Taylor asked, nonchalantly, playing with his hair.

"It's a girl. A girl." He repeated for emphasis when the declaration was met with silence.

Taylor didn't know what to say, deep down he thought his dad would have his hands full with a daughter seeing as he didn't really know what to do with a son. "Congratulations."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" He replied, feeling that Joss had taken over their son's body for a moment.

Taylor could've said many things; that Monique was miserable most of the time and it really sucked, that he was barely there for him and that really sucked, that Baby Girl Martens-Carter was gonna need all the help she could get, or that he wished he was somewhere else shooting guns with John. But he didn't. "What are you gonna call her?"

"She's thinking about names. I like Nicole. As a middle name, maybe." Taylor nodded, the idea of having matching names with his sister wasn't so bad. "Maybe you could come up with something."

"Maybe." He tied the laces to his brown boots, thinking _nope_.

Paul wished it wasn't so awkward, but there was nothing he could do about it. He cleared his throat. "Your mom said you sent off your apps already."

"Yeah, I'm just glad it's over, for now anyway."

"It'll work out." Taylor shrugged his shoulders and the comfortable silence started to feel more consuming. "Tay, nothing's gonna change between us. She's just a baby."

"Yeah, uhh, can you look at my brake lights? I think one's gone out."

He didn't miss the change of subject, but there was nothing he could do about it. "Okay, it's probably the fuse…"

 _Monday 19th January, 11.13am, 8th Precinct_

Thanks to her experience with HR, Joss understood what to do when she was under surveillance. Under no circumstances was she stepping foot anywhere near _Dexter's Lab_ , as Shaw called it, or John Bowen's apartment. After resetting her smartphone, destroying her burner phone, still making her weekly hair appointments, and switching up her route to work that weekend; she examined the possibilities of John being found. The two pieces of evidence crucial to his identification were still missing; the surveillance tape and the documents from the 103rd Precinct, both due to Anthony's intervention, and all she could do was hope that both leads were as dead as he was.

"Detective Carter?" She spotted Captain Miller in the doorway; he'd assigned an office for the FBI to use and currently she was the only one in it.

"Captain." Her stomach churned slowly.

"What progress have you made with the Fuentes case?"

She exhaled, because at least it wasn't about John. "The wardens placed her cellmates in solitary confinement however the autopsy shows a long straight-edged knife was used, consistent with a kitchen knife and none of her cellmates had access to the kitchen. I cross-referenced the interviews from the COs on duty in the days leading up to the murder and found inconsistencies with Officers Clark, Lindner and Page. My gut says the weapon was supplied by a CO so Agents Macy and Scheppers are investigating further."

"Good. You'll be glad to hear the Quiroga case is closed and the DEA's all over that club of his."

"That _is_ good news." He stared into her eyes in that borderline HR-report way. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"No, that's all. Huynh is working well with Fusco while you're on assignment."

She forced a smile. "I've heard great things."

 _Wednesday 21st January, 1.07pm, Finch's Penthouse_

Bear was officially back in the field and no-one was happier about it than Shaw, or whatever passed for happy. Stacey, the blonde barista, quit her job the day before after her second warning about getting the orders wrong. It didn't matter because she preferred being a brunette, she and Bear made a formidable team, and more importantly, they finally had insight into what Elias' next move was.

"Where's the pool boy?" Shaw asked, looking around for John.

"Mr Reese has some personal matters to deal with."

She raised her eyebrows in hope. "With Carter?"

He cleared his throat. "Possibly. How did you get on with our latest number?"

"Ask her. She's in the trunk."

He hoped she was being sarcastic. "I find the Campioni family Chardonnay to be quite dry but I suppose their interests are more on black market than the wines."

"Import/export?"

"Import. Weapons, mainly."

"So Elias teamed up with his old number-crunching crony, a Rhode Island don with a legit enterprise and an arms trafficker?"

He was impressed by how succinctly she put it. "Campioni also has connections at the ports in Rhode Island which some would say are less rigorously checked than New York and New Jersey."

"And bang goes the loose cannon." She sat on his desk and swung her legs.

"Mr Reese is aware of the lengths you went to to protect him."

She laughed to herself. "Even if there were a hundred of us, we couldn't protect him from himself. And you know that, Harold." He couldn't say out loud how much he agreed with her sentiment.

 _Thursday 22nd January, 8.11pm, Tom's Diner, New York_

The reason why Tom's Diner was such a good meeting spot was its multiple blind spots. It was possible to use the West entry and exit and sit in the third booth without being caught on the security cameras. After breaking contact for a week, the first thing Joss noticed was his stubble, he really needed a shave but the look worked for him in a kick-off-her-shoes-and-screw-him-on-the-diner-table kind of way. The first thing he noticed was her unease, which was surprising because he could see the lime green workout top under her jacket and usually the gym was where she let off steam.

Due to the popular all-day breakfast and the customers taking up 75% of the seating, it was hard to make out their voices with the jukebox playing a jazzy Patsy Cline song about doing right like the other men do.

"You know, don't you?" She asked, her face betraying her conflict.

"Of course. You hungry?" He replied casually, there was no need to say more about the investigation.

She shook her head and really didn't want to say what she had to say next. "John, I need you to stay away from my house for now. I meant what I said, that I won't let anything happen to you if I can help it. But I can't afford to lose everything over this…over what I did."

"You mean what _I_ did." He corrected her and pretended to browse through the menu. He didn't want her to feel any guilt, even though good people always did. "I understand your position."

"You do?"

He wished she didn't express her concern for him with her eyes, because that made it harder. "I do. Taylor's a great kid, and you've worked so hard making a future for him."

She pulled a few napkins out of the dispenser and started wrapping up Marshal Jennings star under the table. "Thanks for understanding."

"Thanks for everything you've done for me. Everything. And if you ever have to choose; save yourself, for your son."

She didn't want to think about what that meant. "I still feel the same-"

"Joss," He couldn't take hearing the "L" word again because he couldn't reciprocate.

"When are you gonna see what I see?" She slid her little parcel in his direction. "Whatever you're doing, just know."

"I do." He couldn't look at her anymore and there were no words to say.

 _A week later, Friday 30th January, 4.50pm, 8th Precinct_

The relief Joss felt when Agents Macy and Scheppers packed up their things and left the Precinct without attaching John to the murder he committed washed away quickly when Fusco pulled a note out of his desk and gave it to her with some sticky residue from his glazed doughnut on it.

 _He can't win_ , it read.

 _He can't win._

She hadn't heard from John in a week and neither had Shaw or Finch. Fusco didn't even know he was out of town and was expecting him to pop up at the least convenient time with the greatest demands.

 _He can't win._

She wracked her brains; if John went after Elias that meant the bad thing she had been dreading was sure to come to pass.

 _"No matter where I am; it seems that you're not far, you're haunting me. Is it a coincidence I look up and there you are? I hope a sudden look could make you turn my way. And I'll be lookin' and I'll be lookin' and I'll be lookin', hey you. You got me lookin' for your love…"_


End file.
